


Down Comes the Night

by WeAreTheLuckyOnes



Series: Down Comes the Night [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Creatures, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Frotting, Graphic Violence, Hand Jobs, Implied/Reference Character Death, M/M, Major Character Injury, Riding, Shapeshifter Castiel, Werewolf Dean, explicit violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24052501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeAreTheLuckyOnes/pseuds/WeAreTheLuckyOnes
Summary: The raven that follows Dean back to his cave one winter morning is just another bird – albeit one that pecks at his ruff and seems to understand human speech. By the time Dean’s involved with hunters, curses, archangels, and possibly Armageddon, he’s regretting thinking that the raven was ‘just another’ anything… but he could never regret meeting Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor Claire Novak/Kaia Nieves - Relationship, Minor Jody Mills/Donna Hanscum - Relationship, Minor Sam Winchester/Rowena MacCleod, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Down Comes the Night [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735210
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Down Comes the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this started from the prompt: _A pack-less werewolf who hasn't shifted in longer than he can remember realises that the raven that's been following him for the last few months is a shapeshifter with a curse that has trapped him in animal form_. Shrek and A Swan Princess morphed it into a Swan Lake curse (animal by day, human by night). It sort of veered from a bit of Shapeshifter/Werewolf pwp into an actual story with actual plot and then voila.
> 
> Title from The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.
> 
> Beta'd by [tiamatv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiamatv/pseuds/tiamatv), [TheSongSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSongSmith) and [regnumveritatis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regnumveritatis).

-*-*-

Part 1

-*-*-

The snow below his paws crunches as he prowls through it, searching for prey. There are birds close, a few squat mourning doves diving into the snow searching for food, but they're too fast, and if he loses them, they'll alert the other animals in the area of an incoming predator. He slinks around them, careful not to make too much noise, continuing his hunt.

A flash of black above him catches his attention, a raven, and he watches as it circles before it dives for him, pecking at the scruff of his neck like it's playing. He stares up at it, tilting his head in confusion as it settles onto a branch a few feet above him and tilts its own head. For a moment, he wonders if it's copying him, but he turns to look towards where it's jerked its head and sees the brown flash of antlers above a snow-whitened shrub. It's a moose, maybe a juvenile, too small to be a fully grown adult, but old enough to be on its own. He looks up at the raven again and realises it's staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to pounce.

It's looking for a meal. He's had ravens follow him around before, small family units and once an entire flock, but never a raven by itself. They're never by themselves, and he packs it away in the back of his mind for later when his belly is full.

He settles his belly to the snow and shuffles forward carefully, quietly. The moose is unaware of his presence, grazing beneath the snow for plants to eat, and he takes advantage of that, getting close before he pounces. He lands on top of the creature, digging his claws into its back until it begins to bleed and sinking his jaws into its neck. It tries desperately to buck him off, kicking its legs out and twisting from side to side, but his hold on it is too strong.

It drops when his hold on its neck tightens, crushing bones between his jaws and breaking its neck. When he's sure it's over, a rustle of wings lets him know his new companion has joined him.

He starts in at the belly, removing a chunk of its flesh to chew on a few feet away so he can watch the raven. Now that he's opened the belly of the moose it takes the opportunity to feed on the flesh flayed open by his teeth. It shrills at him, like in thanks.

Once they've finished, he uses his jaws to take the beast by the neck and begins pulling it towards his camp. There's enough here to feed him for weeks, and he's not going to let it go to waste. The raven follows him, and he can tell it's curious, intent on seeing what he plans to do with it.

The cave he's been sleeping in isn't far from where they caught the moose, but he drops it gladly when he reaches it, jaw aching from the strain. The fire he lit in the burnt-out hole from the night before is still going strong, warming the cave and casting a yellow glow over the stone. The raven's followed him in, and it looks around itself, eyes wide and almost human.

He shifts back into his human form with cracking bones, groaning before he stretches to pull out all the kinks. He doesn't bother putting any clothing on (he barely wears any anymore, even if he keeps it in his bag just in case). The raven watches him, and he wonders why it hasn't flown off yet.

"You can stay here if you want," he tells it, finding a knife to start skinning the beast. "I won't hurt you. Not that you understand me."

The raven trills and he stares at it, outlined by the white snow and sunshine. It doesn't move, and he wonders if maybe it did understand him.

He pushes the moose onto its back and slides the knife from tail to throat, cutting it open so he can break the sternum and remove the organs. He's done this so many times he's sure he could do it in his sleep, and even with his new audience, he doesn't hesitate.

The sky shining in from the lip of the cave has begun to go pink and orange with sunset when he finishes, skin and slices of meat hung up on drying racks. The raven's been eyeing the entrance almost nervously and he doesn't have long to wonder why when the sky finally goes dark.

The raven starts convulsing and he climbs to his feet in seconds to help it, holding it as the bones under its feathers shift much like his do when _he_ shifts. It grows larger and more human-like, and the shrill croaks become pained groans. Suddenly, there's a fully grown man in his lap rather than the raven it once was, and Dean can't do more than stare at him in shock.

"Fuck."

"Holy shit, dude."

-*-*-

Dean suddenly becomes aware of his nakedness as he stares into the other man's eyes, blue like an afternoon sky in summer, but he can't make himself let go. He's never met a shapeshifter before, but he's heard of them. His dad would tell him stories when he was younger of people, like werewolves, who could turn into animals at will. It makes him wonder why the other man didn't change when Dean himself did.

"You're… you're a shapeshifter," he says, a little awed.

"Yeah," the other man grunts, lifting himself up so he's sitting. Dean notices that he doesn't bother covering himself either. "Well, sort of. I don’t know."

"Holy fuck. Dude, holy fuck." Dean's brain feels a bit like a record player with it's needle stuck, his mind whispering _shapeshifter, shapeshifter_ over and over. Finally, the other man's words filter into his brain. "What do you mean _you don’t know_?"

The man doesn't say anything, and Dean realises he's shivering. Dean can deal with the cold, his body temperature is higher than a normal human's, but he realises a shapeshifter's might not be. He climbs to his feet and pulls a couple of skins from his bedroll, draping them over the man's shoulders and pulling him closer to the fire.

"Thanks."

Dean nods and takes the chance to study the other man: the hair as dark as the feathers in his raven form and the cheeks flushed from the cold. He's still shivering and Dean drapes the last fur over his lap, hoping it will help. "Are you alright?"

The other man nods and thanks him again, fingers appearing from under the furs to tug them tighter around his body.

"Do you have a name?"

"Yeah, uh, Castiel."

It's an unusual name, and Dean mouths it, wondering if all shapeshifters have weird names, or if it's just this one. "I'm Dean."

"Thanks for the food. And the furs," Castiel says, blinking up at Dean.

"Why didn't you shift back when I did?" Dean blurts, finally unable to stop himself from asking the question niggling in the back of his mind.

Castiel stares into the fire and shrugs, hunching over and lifting his knees up so his feet are planted in the dirt. "I couldn't. Can’t. Not until nightfall."

Dean, knowing very little of shapeshifter biology, wonders if it’s like werewolves - unable to stop the shift on a full moon and unable to change back until sunrise. Is Castiel only ever human at night? He realises again that he's not clothed, and remembers that nakedness tends to make humans uncomfortable, so he finds the pants in his bag, stolen from a backyard clothesline and only used when he needs to go into a human town for supplies. He pulls them on, not bothering with a shirt.

There's another pair of pants in the bag and he holds them and the only shirt he owns out to the other man, who accepts them gratefully. Castiel climbs out of the furs to pull them on before diving back under again, no longer shivering.

Dean remembers the whiskey in his bag, and how he's heard that alcohol warms cold humans, and goes back to get it. It's almost empty now, barely a few mouthfuls, but he gives it to Castiel anyway. He'll get more later.

"Thanks," Castiel says again, unscrewing the cap and drinking in the warm liquid, throat moving with his gulps. He drinks the last of it, all in one go, and Dean's too surprised to mind. "Are you… are you like me?"

Dean tilts his head to the side, humming. "Well, yes and no. I'm not a shapeshifter. I'm a werewolf."

The other man's eyes grow wide in surprise. Dean's not surprised he doesn't know about werewolves. As far as he's aware, he's the last one left. "I don't… werewolves aren't _real_. Are they?"

Dean chuckles. "Well _I'm_ real."

Castiel splutters, "I just… I thought it was just _me_."

Dean frowns, tilting his head to the side again. He's not quite sure what's stumping him so much. Anyone raised as a shapeshifter should know that other creatures were out there. Unless he’s more like Dean than he thought. Did his family die when he was young, like Dean's had? "You said you didn't know. When I asked if you were a shapeshifter. What did you mean by that?"

Castiel’s hand reaches out from the furs and scratches at the base of his neck. "Well, I don’t remember. I woke up one night and I couldn't remember anything, and then when morning came, I turned into a raven. I thought maybe I was cursed? Like that movie?" Dean knows what movies are, he remembers them from when he was young, but he's not seen one in a while, so he has no idea what the other man is talking about. At Dean's confusion, the man continues. "I don't remember anything about myself, but I remember other things. Movies, food, books. The alphabet. There was a movie - well, a couple - for kids, about people who are cursed to be animals during the day and humans during the night."

"You think a magic man cursed you?" Sorcerers, at least, Dean knows about. He's met a few over the years, that’s where he goes when he needs healing potions and he doesn't feel comfortable going into human towns. They ask fewer questions.

"I think? I don't know. As I said, I can't remember. I just… can't change it." His dark brows thread into a frown and Dean wonders what he did to piss off a magic man so bad they took his memories. "I think… being able to change was normal for me, at least, so maybe I am a shapeshifter?"

"How do you remember your name if you don't remember who you are?" The only answer Dean gets is a shrug. "Well, you can stay with me, I guess? There's a sorcerer who lives nearby, she might have answers."

Castiel's head swivels towards Dean and his eyes light up. "Really?"

"Yeah, small problem, though," Castiel's face falls. "No, it's not bad, she just won't be back for a bit, she had to go to another continent for… I think it was for ingredients? She didn't say when she'd be back. We'll have to visit her cabin once a day or something until she is."

Castiel nods. "Thank you so much, I can't tell you. You're the first… well, I've not met anyone like you, who's… sort of like me, and wants to help."

Dean smiles and claps the other man on the back. "Not a problem. You still hungry? I've got some leftover dried meat from my last kill."

Castiel nods and accepts the food, chewing on the corner while Dean sits back on his hands and stares into the fire.

-*-*-

Dean wakes just as the sun is rising, when Castiel shifts back into a raven, bones cracking and grunts falling from his mouth. He lifts himself up and pads over to him, snuffling into the furs when his body has disappeared, looking for him. When the raven wiggles out of the furs Dean bumps his nose against its body gently, hoping he's conveying his concern. The creature trills in response and Dean takes that as his answer. He settles back down in front of the dying fire and the raven follows him, perching next to him and curling in on itself. Dean watches it with his jaw resting on his paws, wondering if Castiel plans to go back to sleep now he's shifted or if he just wants to be next to him, like he's safe there. They need to visit Rowena today, but for now, they can take as long as they like.

Dean wakes for the second time when the wintry sun begins to fill the cave, shining behind his eyelids. He's suddenly aware of his growling stomach, and climbs to his feet to look for any leftover dried meat. There are a few pieces left in the bag and he eats two of them before taking the last piece over to the raven. Castiel isn't asleep anymore, but he hasn't moved from his spot next to the fire. He's sitting there, watching Dean with piercing black eyes.

While the raven eats, Dean shifts into his human form to stoke the fire and replace the burnt-out embers. He'll need more wood soon, which means journeying out into the woods in human form. He hates doing it. He's far more vulnerable in human form, though not completely helpless, and it takes him longer to heal from the wounds he sustains.

He shifts anyway and gets dressed. The raven watches him with those dark eyes and Dean wonders why he feels that heat pooled in his gut, like he's in rut. Now he knows that inside the raven, a human mind lurks, a _male_ human mind, he feels like a pup, with all the wonky sex hormones that go with it.

He finds his axe and the large sack he uses to carry wood around, and when he heads out of the cave, the raven follows, hopping on the floor until he has enough headroom to spread his wings and lift into the air.

Dean cuts down two small trees, ripping the branches from the trunk before he cuts them into smaller, more manageable pieces. Once he's done, he carries the wood back to the cave and sets it all in the corner.

"We could go take a walk to Rowena's now," he tells the raven, who's resting on his shoulder and has been since he dropped the sack of wood. It's nice, having company. Dean forgot. "And I need to go into town. You'll have to wait for me." The raven pecks at his cheek and Dean takes that as Castiel's displeasure. "I don't think humans normally walk into town with birds on their shoulders, Castiel."

The raven makes a noise that could almost be called a huff and Dean stutters out a laugh.

"You drank all my whiskey, and I don't remember the last time I had anything resembling a vegetable. Werewolves need them too, you know." He gets another peck to his shoulder and Dean brushes the bird off so he can find the human money he keeps in his bag for when he goes into town. He gets most of it from hustling pool at bars, something he's surprisingly good at for someone who's never lived in a human society. He undresses and gathers his clothes, shoes and money in a canvas bag before he shifts into his wolf, taking the bag in his jaws.

The raven follows him out of the cave again, flying above him. It circles and swoops down at him, pecking him teasingly, and Dean bumps him back with his muzzle. He's a playful thing, and he's warmed up to Dean quickly. It makes Dean wonder if Castiel hadn’t had a companion in a while, if he had ever had one.

They reach Rowena's cabin in minutes, and unsurprisingly it remains empty, with no smoke billowing from the chimney. Castiel lands in the snow in front of Dean and hangs his head, no doubt discouraged. Dean bumps his muzzle into the raven's body again.

They continue on east to the town, the raven flying high above as Dean runs, enjoying the way the snow crunches under his paws. When Dean reaches the outskirts, away from prying eyes, he drops his bag and shifts into his human form, dressing quickly. Castiel has landed on a nearby branch and watches him, squawking gently as if he's trying to tell Dean something. "I won't be long, stay here and I'll come find you." The raven looks almost angry, but he doesn’t squawk at Dean again, staying put as Dean trudges onto the road.

In town he goes to the grocery store, waving to Margaret, the attendant at the counter. She's kind, and she never asks why he's always wearing weather-inappropriate clothing, or why he's sometimes pretty filthy, particularly in the colder months when the lakes freeze over. He grabs longer-lasting vegetables like potatoes, onions and carrots, as well as some fruit and a block of chocolate. He takes them to the counter and sets them down in front of Margaret.

"Hey sweetheart, whiskey please," he doesn't bother telling her which, she knows. He's been in often enough.

She reaches up onto the shelf for the bottle and sits it down on the counter with his other purchases, scanning them all through and putting them in his bag. Once he's paid and as he’s turning to leave, she says, "Hey, are you looking for a job?" Dean looks up at her, a little shocked. "Sorry, I just mean that one of my night kids left for college?"

She smells like nervous energy and trepidation, and Dean never will understand the human mind. "Thanks, really, but no." He doesn't elaborate and she doesn't ask him to.

When he's outside, around the corner in the alleyway, he counts the last of his money, deciding he'll need to get more soon. He looks up when the raven trills sharply from its roost on a window frame from the second story of the grocery store. He sends it a pointed look. "I told you to stay. C'mon, let's go."

He notices an older man watching curiously from the lip of the alleyway, leaning heavily on a walking frame, but he doesn't mind. They all think he's an insane hermit anyway, why tell them any different?

-*-*-

Dean sits beside the raven just as the sun's beginning to set and waits for it to shift into Castiel. The change comes when the light finally disappears from the lip of the cave, body convulsing and bones cracking until he's left panting and human in Dean's lap. Dean helps him dress and covers him in furs, sitting him by the fire.

"I bought you something," Dean says, riffling through the bag that still holds his groceries inside. He pulls out the chocolate and hands it to Castiel. "Thought you probably hadn't had any in a while."

Castiel holds it in his hands, staring at it in confusion before he says, "What is it?"

"You… what is it? You know what a movie is, but not what chocolate is?" Dean's starting to find the entire situation particularly hilarious, and he can't stop himself from bursting into cackles. He braces himself on his knees, bent over and laughing until he's breathless and his face is red. When he looks up, Castiel looks embarrassed. "Sorry, Cas, this situation is just… kind of insane, y'know?"

The look of embarrassment slides off of his face and suddenly becomes confusion. "Cas… you called me… I know that name. Why do I know that name? I've never known anything about myself before."

Dean collapses onto the ground next to Castiel and says, "It's your name, maybe it's like with ‘Castiel’ and you just know it's yours. Just because you don't remember anyone calling you that doesn't mean you never were." He pats Castiel on the back and wiggles his toes in front of the fire. "I was thinking I could find a rabbit tomorrow, could make stew. Hopefully the lake won't be frozen over."

Dean takes it as acceptance when Castiel gives him a bright smile. He rips open the packet of chocolate and snaps off the first line, putting a piece in his mouth. Dean tries to ignore his body's reaction to Castiel's face and the noises he's making. Castiel glances up from his second piece and says, "Can I ask you something?"

Dean climbs to his feet, heading for the bottle of whiskey in the bag, resolutely trying to hide his stupid erection and willing it to go down. He's not a pup, he's a fully grown wolf and he can _control himself_. "Sure."

"Why are you alone? I mean, wolves live in packs don't they? And I mean, I know there's that expression, ‘ _lone wolf_ ', but I just wondered."

Castiel's words are like a bucket of cold ice. 

"Oh," Dean unscrews the cap from the bottle of whiskey and takes a swig, wiping stray droplets from his mouth with the back of his hand when he's done. He collapses onto the dirt next to Castiel again, pushing the heartache in his chest down. "Well, werewolves are like wolves, I guess. They - we - do live in packs, but most stay in the pack they were born in." Dean taps at his head, trying to figure out how to explain it. "Weres have secondary genders. Alphas are strong, the hunters and leaders; betas are level-headed, they usually deliberate on all the decisions and counsel the pack leader; and omegas, well, they birth the pups and are usually the ones that protect the pack when danger comes. Wolves are sort of different: they have one alpha, one omega, the rest are betas." Dean takes another gulp of whiskey and hands the bottle over to Castiel. He watches Castiel drink from the corner of his eye, trying to pretend he's not. "So, yeah, most werewolves my age would still be with the pack. Unfortunately, as far as I'm aware, I'm the only one."

Castiel frowns. "Only one, what? Only one from your pack?"

Dean lets out a sharp breath through his nose and shakes his head. "No, the only werewolf." Castiel's face grows sad, and he moves to say something, but Dean interrupts him, not ready for the pity. "There's a faction of humans who kill people like us because they believe we're a danger to humanity. When I was a pup, we knew of three other packs in North America. By the time I was eleven, we were the last. They killed my mother and my brother when I was four, then my father, my stepmother and my half-brother when I was twelve. Along with the rest of my pack."

"How…"

"Did I survive? I almost didn't," Dean scoffs. "They set fire to my pack lands to burn the evidence, and I waited, wanted to die with my family." He traces the scar running from hip to hip on his belly. It’s the only scar that's stayed with him, despite his fast healing. He's glad. It’s a reminder of his family, and of what the humans did to them. "A sorcerer - Tasha - followed the smoke and found me. She had two babies of her own, but she raised me anyway." Dean takes the bottle back from Castiel and just holds it, staring into the fire. "They killed her too, and her daughter Alicia. Not Max, though. I see him sometimes, he visits when he's in the area. The humans have been systematically wiping out the magical creatures on the planet for centuries. I reckon they're probably getting close by now."

Castiel's face has gone pale. "Do you… do you think my family's dead, too?"

Dean reaches over and squeezes Castiel's shoulder. "I wish I could say no, Cas, I really do, but… probably." When Castiel curves into Dean's side, Dean doesn't stop him. In fact, he curls his arm around Castiel's shoulders. It's been so long since he's held someone like this.

-*-*-

A few days later, on the way back from another fruitless visit to Rowena's cabin, Dean and Castiel hunt for a rabbit. In the underbrush, he finds a snowshoe hare, barely visible in the snow, but he likes the challenge. The raven watches unwaveringly from a branch of the bare and frozen tree above him, waiting for Dean to pounce.

Dean never misses, and today is no different. His teeth sink into the hare's scruff, breaking its neck, and he waves it for the raven, showing off. The raven trills, swooping down with its wings outspread to peck at Dean playfully. He butts his muzzle into the tiny feathery body.

Dean's starting to get used to the company. It's a weird feeling, knowing someone's always there with him when no one ever has been. He likes it. (Though he has no plans to admit that to Castiel).

They're almost back to the cave when a branch cracks in the distance, pricking Dean's ears. He stops there in the snow, sniffing the air and listening. Under the evergreen and snow is the distinct scent of humans and gunpowder. _Hunters_.

He drops the hare in the snow and searches for the raven, jerking his head in the direction of the cave when he catches its eyes. He hopes Castiel gets the message, but doesn't watch him for long enough to find out.

The humans appear from the line of trees, three of them, dressed in the hunter garb with guns no doubt packed with silver bullets. He hopes they're stupid enough to mistake him for a real wolf, but he doesn't count on it.

The first bullet hits the snow beside his leg and he growls, howling into the sky before he pounces. They're obviously not good shots if they can't hit him while he's stationary, so he's got a good chance of scaring them off without getting himself seriously injured. If he kills any of them more will come looking for him, and he has no doubt they won't miss. He bites into the elbow of one of the hunters, hard enough to draw blood but not hard enough to permanently damage, before he flings the woman off to the side to attack the other two. He doesn't get to them quickly enough, and a bullet lodges into his leg, blood spilling out onto the snow. He howls in pain, sparks like lightning shooting through his body, but he pushes through it, lunging towards the men, clawing at their bodies.

Another shot goes off and pain shoots through his shoulder, and his legs give way as he collapses into the snow.

A sharp trill cuts through the air and the raven dives at the hunters, pecking at their faces. Dean watches, letting out a soft grunt, desperately hoping Castiel will take it for what it is: a warning to _run_. The raven doesn't run, he swoops at the humans until they finally back off, running back into the forest. The raven pecks at Dean's scruff and he stands on shaking legs, padding over to his hare. Each step sends shooting pain through his body, but he pushes through it, picking his prey up in his jaws. He limps back to the cave, the raven on his heels.

When he's finally safe in the cave and next to the fire, he flings the hare away, shifts into his human form and collapses, grunting in pain. The raven's by his side in seconds, fat little body wiggling into his shoulder to give him comfort. Dean appreciates it.

When the sun sets and Castiel has shifted, Dean lifts his head and says in a pained grunt, "You're gonna have to dig out the bullets, Cas. Thank Gods they weren't silver. They probably weren't hunting me, but they will be now."

Castiel grimaces, but he helps Dean nonetheless, fingers poking into Dean's wounds, wiggling about until he finds the bullets. It's not the greatest feeling in the world... in fact, it hurts like a bitch, and Dean bites into his own wrist to muffle his whimpers. Once the first bullet is out - the one from his shoulder - Dean takes it from Castiel to stare at it, at the _W_ etched into the top, then lifts it up to his nose to smell it. Under the scent of blood he can smell chickens, deadly nightshade, witch hazel, ginger, cat's blood and kelp. Witch-killing potion. They were hunting Rowena.

"We have to go back to Rowena's cabin, she needs to be warned."

-*-*-

Rowena's cabin is more modern on the inside than it is on the outside, with a television in one corner of the main room and a stainless-steel kitchen. On top of the kitchen counter sits a landline phone with a phone book sitting next to it, and Dean heads straight for it, picking it up with the hand of his uninjured arm and dialling the mobile number he finds under Rowena's name.

It rings through three times before it's answered, and Rowena doesn't pause before she says, "Dean? Whatever's the matter?"

Dean rubs his face, blinks over at Castiel and says, "I need you to send a portal for us. I'll explain it when we get there."

Rowena doesn't reply, and after a long moment of silence, a flash of magic crackles through the air as a portal appears in the corner of the room. Dean hangs up and wraps his hand around Castiel's wrist, pulling him towards the portal. Castiel digs his feet into the floor and they come to a halt.

"Cas, I promise it's safe," Dean whispers gently, turning to face him. He reaches up to take Castiel's face in his hand, the movement of his arm tugging at the steadily healing wound on his shoulder. "It's safer than _here_." 

When Dean concentrates he can hear the thud of Castiel's heart in his chest. His eyes are so blue, blue like the ocean, like aster flowers, so blue Dean might drown in them. After a moment, Castiel nods and they step into the portal.

Rowena's on the other side waiting for them. She's wearing a forest green dress topped with lace that complements her hair and matches the eyeshadow covering her eyelids. Very on brand for her. She doesn't look pleased, also very on brand for her. "Well, Dean?"

Dean tells her the whole story, not sparing a single detail, watching as Rowena's face falls and her perfectly manicured eyebrows knit together. She's no longer angry. Instead, she's trying to keep the horror in her eyes from her face."Fuck, Dean. Fuck."

"Why are they coming after you, Rowena? How do they know where you are?" Dean asks, when he's finally done. He's still holding Castiel's wrist, but he doesn't let go when he realises. "You've been hidden for forty years, Rowena, how did they find you?"

Rowena waves her hand dismissively and turns around to lean over the counter behind her. Dean takes the pause to look around the room. They're in a fancy hotel room, and by the sign on the wall, welcoming them to _Waldorf Astoria Amsterdam_ , they're in The Netherlands. Rowena has set up a small potions lab on the hotel desk, and one of her potions is bubbling. 

"Rowena, I need your help with something else."

Rowena waves her hand over the pot and the fire goes out, and when she turns back to Dean, the flash of purple in her eyes slowly fades back to their normal green. She raises one eyebrow and Dean uses the hand on Castiel's wrist to steer him closer to Rowena before releasing his grip. She considers Castiel, circling around him like a predator with a finger tracing her bottom lip. She pauses to wave a hand in front of him, her eyes shining purple again.

"I can't break it, Dean. Only the witch that crafted it or the trigger they created can break it," she squeezes Castiel's shoulder, giving him a sad but kind smile. When she lets go she sits at the chair in front of the desk and plants her elbows on the wood, linking her fingers together and resting her chin on them. She sighs, "I can tell you who cursed him though. Crowley."

Dean grunts, rubbing his hand over his face. "Fuck."

"Yes."

Castiel frowns at them both, gaze flicking back and forth between them. "Who's Crowley?"

Rowena turns to look at Castiel, her face weary, showing her years more than she ever has. "A cretin. My son."

Dean topples onto the couch behind them with a grunt and Castiel sinks down next to him, looking dumbfounded. Dean links his fingers over his head and stares up at the ceiling, studying the patterns of the tiles. 

"Why would he do this to me?" Castiel asks.

Dean reaches a hand over and pats Castiel's knee. "That's the question, isn't it?"

Rowena turns to face the two, face grim, and says, "The last I heard of him, he was hiding out in Lebanon."

Dean feels his heart drop into his stomach. "He's working with the Men of Letters."

-*-*-

Dean paces while Rowena makes her phone calls, trudging back and forth between the window and the door. He's trying to calm his racing heart, but it does nothing to help, and in fact, he's entirely sure it's making the anxiety worse. Castiel has been sitting on the couch for the last two hours, trying to process all the information he's been given during that time. Dean's not entirely sure he's gotten it yet, and Dean's been waiting for him to speak up. Despite this, he's surprised when he finally does.

"I need you to explain this to me: who are the Men of Letters? How do they relate to the hunters, and how is Rowena's son involved with them?" Castiel asks, resting his elbows on his knees.

Dean stops his pacing and collapses back onto the couch next to Castiel, facing him, resting his arm over the back of it. He tries to decide where and when to begin. Eventually, he chooses the very beginning. "Hundreds of years ago, maybe even thousands, a religious order came together to study and fight the monsters of the world: werewolves, vampires, witches, shapeshifters. The largest faction of their order were the hunters, trained to kill people like us. Over the years there have been people like Crowley who have joined them in the hopes of sparing their own lives. It never works, but he's certainly lasted the longest." Dean studies Castiel, watching his reactions, taking in the smell of nervous energy and fear. "There are whole species, like demons, centaurs, furies and firebirds, who have been wiped from existence. When you grow up in a supernatural family you always wonder if these creatures were ever real at all. When I was a pup I thought shapeshifters were other weres, or just extinct. There's so few of us left."

"Why?"

Dean scratches the back of his neck and then shrugs one shoulder. "’Cause we're different. Humans hate things that are different. They kill their own kind for the colour of their skin and the people they choose to love." 

"That's awful."

Rowena ends her last call and settles herself into the armchair across from them, crossing her legs at the ankles and settling her skirts around her. She folds her hands in her lap primly and says, "I have some old friends in Sioux Falls who are going to house us. They're humans, but they're allies, I trust them all with my life. Staying with humans will help us blend in until we've got a plan."

"A plan for… what?"

The look on Rowena's face tells him exactly what. "Rowena, no,” Dean protests “You got so many people killed the last time."

Her grin turns sharp, almost predatory, infinitely hubristic. "I've been here, talking to _them_." At Dean's shock, she says, "Yes. _They've_ joined forces."

"That…" Dean's heart is hammering in his chest again. "That's impossible. They've been… they are the _definition_ of the battle between good and evil, they don't _join forces_."

"I'm lost again."

Dean turns to Castiel again. "Michael and Lucifer."

"N-no, that's not possible. Michael and Lucifer? From the _Bible_? The archangel and the devil?"

"Hold on," Dean says, then faces Rowena. "Their methods are too extreme, the last time they battled they killed millions of humans. Not all of them are bad, Rowena, I don't want to live at the expense of innocents."

"We're not looking to kill innocents, we're wiping out the hunters. They've agreed."

Dean scoffs, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. He feels a bit like his head might explode at any minute, too much information at one time. He wholeheartedly believes that if they involve the angels they're asking for trouble, but he trusts Rowena enough to work with the people she trusts, even if he won't ever trust them himself. 

"Sorry, I need you to explain everything to me," Castiel says, interrupting Dean's train of thought. He looks a bit terrified and Dean supposes he should, too, at the prospect of meeting an archangel and the devil in person, and quite possibly fighting by their side.

"Since you seem quite familiar with the Bible, we'll skip over that part," Rowena says when Dean hasn't answered for a minute. "You know there was a war between Lucifer's faction of angels and Michael's? Before Michael cast Lucifer into hell, the battle spilled onto our plane. They killed... millions. Innocent lives lost to a senseless war they had no reason to be in."

"Anytime they've gotten involved with humans they've devastated entire civilisations," Dean says to Castiel before turning back to Rowena. "No."

She rolls her eyes dramatically. "You don't get to decide, Dean."

Dean gives her a strong scowl before climbing to his feet and finding the hotel phone, picking up the receiver and dialing the number for reception he finds on the pamphlet sitting next to the phone. It's late, he hadn't realised, and the kitchen, while not closed, is only serving a limited menu, and with an after-hours fee. If he's gonna deal with this crap he needs to eat, and he needs alcohol. If Rowena has to pay for it, all the better. Once he's listed off what he wants he sends a questioning raised eyebrow at Castiel, who shakes his head in response. He knows Castiel hasn't eaten in almost a day, so he orders him a burger like he's ordered himself. 

"Hey," he says, staring out the window and suddenly realising he doesn't know when the sun will rise and Castiel will shift into his raven form. Animals can't go through Rowena's portals, they found that out when he tried to enter in wolf form and an electricity bolt shot like lightning through him. They'll either have to go tonight, before the sun rises, or wait until the next night. "How long until dawn?"

Rowena hums, and after a moment's pause she says, "An hour and a half maybe. Not enough time for me to be ready, we'll have to wait until tonight." She blinks over at Castiel, still sitting in the corner of the couch—he's not moved for hours. Dean's starting to wonder if he's in shock. "You can stay here, I've got things to do today. Call back and order me coffee, please."

-*-*-

Dean shifts with Castiel when the sun rises, staying with him in the bedroom while Rowena runs her errands. He's quiet, barely a shrill caw from him all day and Dean worries about him. He shoves his muzzle into the little raven body every now and then, hoping he'll react, peck at Dean's scruff and trill at him in annoyance, but he doesn't. Dean really doesn't blame him: he's barely had time to process being a shapeshifter and learning of the existence of werewolves, and now he's been slammed with angels and the devil.

Rowena's left the TV on for them, and though it's mostly in Dutch, daytime soap operas follow the same storyline no matter which country they're from. One of the shows that starts broadcasting around midday is very similar to a show Dean was obsessed with when he was a teen living with Tasha, Max and Alisha: Dr. Sexy. It was crap, utter trash, but he loved it anyway. Max would often joke that the same guy (Dr. Avery Bacic, the main character) was the reason for both his and Dean's sexual awakenings and Dean honestly can't deny it.

When Rowena returns during late afternoon Dean shifts to talk to her, ask her what the plan is and if she spoke to _them_ during the day. She had.

"Michael proposed the play, but I make the decisions. They've given me insurance, in case they step out of line." Dean gives her an unimpressed frown until he sees what she holds in her hands. It's a book, old and weathered, bound in leather. 'It's called the _Arbatel de Magia Veterum_. It's a five-hundred-year-old grimoire and it contains a spell that will return any archangel on Earth to Heaven and keep them there for an unknown period of time."

"They gave this to you? Why?"

"Like I said, insurance." 

Rowena lets Dean take it, study it. Despite Dean not being able to perform magic himself, he spent so many years around magical beings that he can feel the magic that surges from the pages, sending tingles up his arms and making his hair stand on end. It's strong, like no other grimoire Dean's ever touched before. He opens it, flicking through the pages carefully - yellowed with age and ripped in places, ink a little smudged on some words and images. "I can feel how powerful this book is, Rowena, why would they give something like this to you?"

"Would you believe that Lucifer gave it to me?" Rowena says, her laugh stuttering and almost hysterical. "They agreed that things often got out of hand when they were involved, and Michael said that this was our war, they were simply the muscles."

"Imagine that," Dean says almost breathlessly, closing the book again and staring at it for a moment before he hands it back to Rowena. "I still don't trust them."

"You don't need to trust them. Trust _me_."

Dean nods - he can do that. He turns to look over at the raven perched on the bed, dark eyes following their every movement. Castiel doesn't need to be involved with this bullshit, he shouldn't have to be involved in this war. Castiel's gaze is so strong and intense that Dean can barely manage to pull himself away to ask Rowena, "And Castiel? His curse?"

Rowena sighs and shakes her head, "I don't know, Dean. We could summon Fergus when we arrive in Sioux Falls, but I can't promise anything. He's powerful - not as powerful as I am, but powerful enough to resist." She turns to the raven then, face sad. "I promise we'll find a way. Maybe there's something in the book the angels gave me."

The raven nods once before digging its head under its wing. 

"Who's taking us in? You said they were humans."

Rowena waves her hand and the doors to the closet open, a dark purple suitcase lifting out of it and settling onto the floor, the lid flying open. As her clothes fold themselves one at a time and fit themselves into the suitcase, she says, "Jody Mills, Donna Hanscum, Alex Jones, Claire Novak, Patience Turner and Kaia Nieves. They've been working with people like us for years, ever since Bobby Singer moved to the town. Bobby Singer was a member of the Men of Letters until ten years ago, he left after witnessing the death of two young boys - werewolves. I don't know the story as to how he left and how Jody and Donna learnt of him and the supernatural world, but it got Bobby killed a few years back. The rest have spent years hiding and protecting people like us. Kaia is a dreamwalker and Patience is a psychic. If you want to know the full story, you'll have to ask Jody, but we can trust them."

Dean hopes they can. By Gods he hopes they haven't been waiting for years for a big fish like Rowena. It's how Tasha got killed.

The sun sets at five thirty and Castiel shifts into his human form. With all of Rowena's things packed, they set out through a portal that lands them in the middle of a spacious living room where six women are waiting for them. Dean knows which woman is the dreamwalker and which is the psychic the minute they land: one smells like magic and unfamiliar worlds and the other smells like power. The two older women in the room smell like gunpowder and are dressed in sheriff uniforms, while one of the younger women is dressed in hospital scrubs and smells like blood, death and antiseptic solution. The last of the women smells like gunpowder as well, but she doesn't hold herself like a cop does, so if Dean didn't know any better he would label her as a hunter. He decides to keep his eye on her. Underneath the gunpowder, blood and power they all smell like trepidation and fear.

The sun is still up in Sioux Falls, and as soon as Castiel lands he shifts back into a raven. Dean sighs.

-*-*-

They set Dean and Castiel up in the lounge room on the pullout couch and Rowena up in the only spare room. The house feels almost too full now with nine people, but Dean gets the sense the women are used to it.

Jody has made a roast dinner, two chickens and more roast vegetables that Dean's ever seen in his life. Dean can't even remember the last time he ate a home-cooked meal he didn't kill himself - maybe back when he was living with Tasha. It makes a strange feeling, something akin to homesickness, grow in his gut. He misses his families, the one that birthed him, and the other that raised him, and he doesn't remember the last time he felt like that. Years, maybe.

Despite the original tension he felt between them, they seem to have relaxed now, and they chat easily, pulling Dean and Rowena into their conversations - even Castiel after a little poking. Patience seems most interested in Castiel, particularly his memory loss, and wonders aloud if his memory is hidden or completely gone.

"What do you mean?" Castiel asks, eyebrows knitted together.

Patience lifts her glass of wine to her lips, sips at it and hums thoughtfully. "It's possible I can pull your memories from where they've been hidden, unless they've been completely removed from your mind. I'll need Rowena's help, there's a bit of magic that goes into it, but I don't think it will be particularly hard."

Castiel's mouth is open in shock, and Dean doesn't blame him, he’s feeling just as surprised. He truly thought they would have to break the curse before they could retrieve Castiel's memories. If he had his memories back, it could make breaking the curse easier.

"How?"

Patience hums again. "A few people have come through here cursed with memory loss. It takes a lot of energy out of me, but there's a witch near here who casts a spell that increases my power long enough for me to reach into the cursed person's head and retrieve their memories." She reaches for one of the bottles of wine on the table and tops up her glass. She stares at Castiel, her gaze intense, and Dean gets the impression that she's reaching into his mind to learn whether his memories are hidden or removed. Castiel looks uncomfortable, but he doesn't stop her. "You're in luck, they're behind a wall. The magic is familiar, I've gone up against it before."

"Crowley." Dean nods solemnly. Patience's head whips around to look at him, as do the others'. He suspects they've never known who the perpetrator was before. "Fergus MacLeod, also known as Crowley. We suspect he works with the Men of Letters."

Jody and Donna share a look before they turn to Patience, who's frowning. "We never knew his name. But we knew that he took their memories to protect them."

Rowena scoffs, shaking her head. "My son doesn't protect anyone but himself and his own interests."

"Your _son_ ," Jody says, astounded. "He's your _son_."

"Unfortunately."

Jody and Donna begin a hushed conversation, words hurried, and, even to Dean's exceptional hearing, unintelligible. Dean glances over at Castiel, who looks like he's just been hit in the face, shocked and confused. He reaches over and squeezes Castiel's thigh, hoping to provide comfort. Castiel's rounded eyes fly to Dean's and Dean can hear Castiel’s heart hammering in his chest, and he doesn't think it's from the shock of learning he might just be able to get his memories back. Dean can't make himself look away until Donna speaks, and even then he doesn't move his hand.

"This witch, Crowley, he's been removing people's memories and sending them to people like us. We smuggle supernatural beings like you guys into countries where the Men of Letters don't have a foothold." Donna sets her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her hands. "We don't know why he's doing it, but we know he's doing what he can to help."

Rowena scoffs again, but she doesn't say anything. 

"Were they ever cursed like Castiel is? Stuck shifting with the sun?" 

Patience nods, humming. "Once. A wolf. Once he got his memories back we learnt that Crowley had done it to keep him from being recognised as a were when he turned with the full moon." She frowns and picks up her wine glass, staring into it consideringly. "He said he thought he was the last werewolf. Guess not."

"There's another werewolf out there?" Dean asks, his heart caught in his throat. He's not alone, there's another out there like him. 

"Yeah, he's in Mongolia. Sam something, a gun?"

Dean's heart hammers in his chest and he thinks he might throw up. This can't be happening. "Winchester, was it Winchester?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Oh fuck," Dean pushes himself away from the table and rushes into the kitchen, barely making it to the sink before he vomits violently. Everything he's eaten that day spills into the sink, the disgusting stench filling his nostrils, and it makes the vomiting worse. He feels a familiar hand on his back, and it eases the nausea, until finally he stops retching.

"Dean, what happened?" Castiel asks very gently, voice barely above a whisper as he continues to rub at Dean's back as Dean tries to clean the evidence from the sink. 

"My brother. Sam's my brother."

-*-*-

Dean can't sleep that night. He spends the hours sitting up in the foldout couch with Castiel asleep next to him, just thinking. His brother can't be alive, it's completely impossible. It has to be another wolf who lied about his name. He… doesn't remember much about that night, but he remembers the funeral, and he remembers saying goodbye to so many family members that night. Sam was only six months old.

He can't be alive.

"Dean, you need to _sleep_ ," Castiel says gently, awake after all. He turns onto his side, and when Dean looks down at him his eyes are open and his face is twisted into a frown. "Rowena said she'll portal you to Mongolia tomorrow, you'll find him."

"He's dead, Cas. It's not him. Hunters killed my brother when he was six months old." Dean feels a little like he might cry. So many emotions are fogging his mind and he can't hold them back.

"You'll find out tomorrow. Now please for the love of the gods, _go to sleep_."

Dean slides down until he's lying down, hands clasped over his chest. He closes his eyes, willing sleep to take hold, but it doesn't. 

Castiel lets out a harsh breath through his nose after a few moments and says, "Dean, please, I can smell how upset you are. There's nothing you can do tonight."

The first tear slips through his closed eyelids and rolls down the side of his cheek, his breath hitching horribly.

"Fuck, Dean," and when Castiel reaches over and pulls Dean into his arms he can't hold back anymore, huge gulping sobs escaping his mouth despite how hard he tries to stop them. He presses his face into the crook of Castiel's neck, and even scenting him doesn't help. He's let the tears go now, and he can't stop them. "Shh, Dean, it's alright. I'm here."

He feels wrong, like his whole life is a lie. If this wolf is his brother where the fuck has he been for almost forty years? How did he survive the hunters’ massacre? Who took him? He muffles his crying into Castiel's neck and finds comfort in the hand rubbing soothingly over his shoulder. Castiel's face is pressed into his hair, whispering kind words, and Dean can't hear them over his muffled sobs, but they help somehow - help him feel less like he's coming apart at the seams, or maybe that Castiel is stitching him back up as he does. 

When his tears calm into soft hitches of breath, what feels like hours later but was probably only minutes, he pulls away from Castiel and leans up onto his elbow to stare at him. His cheeks are wet too, and Dean can't tell if he cried when Dean had, or if they're Dean's tears. Without thinking of the consequences, he leans in and plants his mouth on Castiel's, kissing him gently.

Castiel doesn't hesitate, sliding his hand from Dean's shoulder and into his hair, threading his fingers through the strands and pulling Dean closer, kissing him harder. He tastes like winter sunshine and the way forest earth smells in autumn, and Dean can't explain it, but he wants more. _Needs_ more. He slides his body over Castiel's and settles on top of him, licking into his mouth and groaning when he feels Castiel's body react to the closeness.

Dean only pulls away long enough to tug his shirt over his head and fling it over onto the floor, clawing at the hem of Castiel's shirt to do the same. Dean has no idea what he's doing but he can't stop himself, he doesn't want to. He wants to kiss Castiel until his mouth hurts and touch him until he knows every inch of his body. 

A small voice in the back of his mind reminds him that there are seven other people sleeping upstairs, but he ignores it in favour of kissing Castiel one last time and climbing down his body, easing under the covers and settling between his legs. Even with his enhanced eyesight, it's hard to see what he's doing, fingers fumbling at Castiel's waistband in his hurry to tug his pants down. It's been so long since he touched someone like this that he practically vibrates with the urgent need to do so, to get his hands and his mouth on Castiel's body.

Castiel doesn't speak, but the noises that leave his mouth are constant. If he's like this when Dean hasn't even touched him, what noises will he make when Dean gets his mouth on him? What noises would he make if Dean slid his dick into him?

Dean shivers at the thought, heat building in his gut. He leans down and swipes his tongue over the head of Castiel's cock before sucking it into his mouth. Castiel whines so loudly that Dean has to reach up and smack a hand over his mouth so he doesn't wake the others. Castiel's breath is hot under his palm as he pants, and when Dean slides his mouth further over his cock, Castiel bites into his skin. Dean hollows his cheeks and sucks harder, enjoying the ache in his jaw and the taste of the other man's cock on his tongue. He splutters when Castiel's hips come off the bed and he shoves his cock further into Dean's throat, and Dean’s dick throbs in his pants.

Using the hand not on Castiel's mouth, Dean reaches down to pop the button on his jeans and shove them down as far as he can reach before wiggling the rest of the way out of them. He climbs up onto his knees and gets his hand on his cock, jerking it slowly as he gets Castiel off with his mouth.

Surprisingly, Dean comes first, heat pooling in his belly and settling in his groin until he explodes, flashes of white behind his eyes. He manages to catch his semen in his cupped hand before he gets any on the bed sheets, but he can't do anything but hold it while it cools as he continues to suck Castiel off. It's kinda - really disgusting.

Dean feels a bit bad for being glad when Castiel does come quickly, spilling into his mouth with a throaty groan, and then he’s getting out from under the covers straightaway to find something to clean up his come. Castiel's not upset with him though, he’s laughing breathlessly as he watches Dean hurry towards the box of tissues on the table in the corner. Dean makes a face at him while he wipes off the sticky come from his hand, dropping the wad of tissues into the waste paper bin and making a mental note to take it out to the trash before anyone else in the house realises what it is.

When Dean climbs back into the bed, Castiel pulls him into his arms and kisses him again. Neither says anything, too afraid they'll break whatever spell they've cast between them. They’re still holding each other when they fall asleep, moments later.

-*-*-

Dean and Rowena step out of the portal into a snow-covered valley in front of a small wooden cabin. If Dean hadn't known any better, he would have thought he'd landed somewhere in the north of the United States. An object covered in a sheet sits under the awning in front of the door and a peek under the sheet reveals it to be a motorbike.

His heart is racing, and he can't make himself move to knock on the door, but he doesn't need to. The cabin's occupant flings the door open and steps out, holding a shotgun. His hair is unnecessarily long and he's wearing flannel and scuffed leather boots. He smells like _wolf_ , but Dean can't tell if he smells like _pack_. If this really is his little brother, considering they spent so many years apart, he's pretty sure he'll have to shove his nose into the guy's neck to tell, which is probably impolite.

Gods, he wished Castiel was here with him.

"Who are you?"

Dean hasn't done this since he was eleven, but he remembers it like it was yesterday. He clasps his hand in a fist and presses it to his heart, bowing his head, then says, "Dean Winchester, firstborn son of John Winchester, second to the Alpha of the Kansas werewolf pack." He looks up at the man. "Well, I was."

The man is confused, and rightfully so. He lowers his gun and whispers, "Winchester?"

"Yes. I hear you've been going by Sam Winchester, any reason you chose the name of my dead brother?" It's a little harsher than he'd first intended it to be, but he decides if this guy wants to play games with him, then Dean will too.

"I… It's my name?"

Dean purses his lips. "I doubt that." Rowena smacks him in the shoulder and he hisses, "What?"

"It's always been my name. The people who raised me told me it was." He looks unsure, like a small child who's been told off but can't understand what for. "My mom, well the woman I called mom, she took me after our pack was killed." Dean goes to say something, but Rowena hits him again. "I don't understand."

"What was her name - the wolf that took you?"

"Ellen."

Dean's heart drops into his belly, and he feels like he might vomit again, like he had the night before. It had been a long time since he'd heard that name, but he remembered her, remembered the woman with the dark hair and even darker fur who played with him when he was small. His dad would talk about her sometimes, too, when he got older: how she loved Dean and Sam like her own sons, unable to have her own. She'd been like a sister to his dad. They'd been born on the same day and they'd grown up together. Dean wants to deny it, wants to pretend this guy is talking about some other Ellen, but he can't, he can't pretend. "Why would she take you?" he whispers, unable to speak any louder in case he loses control of his tightly held emotions. He doesn't need to cry again, not in front of Sam. "We were still alive."

Sam leaves his gun on the porch, climbing down the stairs and closer to Dean, who takes a step back. "She said she ran with me, away from the hunters, and when she got back to the packlands it was burnt to the ground. Everyone was dead."

"Why would she lie?"

Rowena puts a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezes. "She probably didn't, Dean. She probably thought everyone _was_ dead."

Dean shakes his head, he can't fathom it. His brother has been alive this entire time and Dean hadn't known it. "I can't. I have to make sure."

The younger wolf looks unsure - like he's worried that if he lets Dean get that close, he'll get his throat torn out - but he nods anyway. Dean pushes his body forward, boots crunching in the snow and reaches his hand out to Sam, nudging his head aside gently so he can shove his nose into the wolf's neck. There, underneath the smell of earth, snow and rain, so small Dean almost misses it, is the smell of shared blood, the smell of _pack_. He lets himself cry then, big heavy sobs into the throat of a stranger who isn't so strange after all. Sam's arms come up around Dean's body, and he cries too. It's all very emotional, when normally Dean is so levelheaded. He's cried more in the last few days then he has in years.

When they manage to calm themselves down, Dean holds Sam at arm’s length so he can look at him. "You look like dad, you know, but fuck did you get tall. I swear dad was never this tall."

Sam lets out a watery huff of laughter and wipes at his eyes. His smile is so wide and bright Dean feels like he's standing in the warmth of sunshine. Gods, his _baby brother_. "Ellen never said I had a brother, but she hid a lot from me, I think it hurt too much to talk about it. Where's our mom and dad? The rest of the pack? You said people lived."

Dean clasps a hand around Sam's cheek, smiling sadly. "It's just us now, kid. Patience said you thought you were the last wolf, did Ellen…?"

Sam nods, looking like he might start crying again any minute. "Ten years ago, now. Would you believe it was natural causes? Well, sort of, I guess you could say she died of a broken heart. Hunters killed her husband and then her daughter. She had a heart attack."

Dean hugs his brother again, stroking his back. His heart aches for Sam, and his heart aches for himself. But the ache is nothing compared to the weight that he's suddenly felt disappearing from his shoulders now that he knows his brother is alive. _His brother_.

Sam agrees to go back with them, although hesitantly, still afraid of the hunters and the Men of Letters. It's midday in Sioux Falls, almost three hours after they left, and Castiel is exactly where they left him: perched on the back of the couch. 

The raven trills when Dean steps through the portal, but it doesn't move. Dean goes straight for it, smoothing the feathers at its head down gently. "Hey, Cas," the raven trills again, butting its head up into Dean's hand.

"Your… pet?" Sam asks hesitantly, brow knitted into a frown, confusion clear on his face.

Dean snorts and watches as the raven gives him something akin to an unimpressed look, cawing at him. "No, this is Castiel. He was cursed, he's usually much more human than this." It suddenly occurs to Dean that Patience told him Sam was cursed, too, and he hasn't asked if he still is, yet. "Patience said you were cursed, too?"

Sam shrugs. "Human during the day, wolf at night."

"Castiel's the opposite," Dean turns to look at the raven again and says, "It's really him. It’s really my brother, isn't that insane?" With a flap of wings, the raven lifts into the air and settles itself on Dean's shoulder, pecking at a patch of scalp above his ear. "Oi, quit it."

Rowena looks amused, and Sam is still confused. 

By the time Dean and Rowena were leaving for Mongolia, Jody and Donna had already left for the sheriff's station, Alex had left for the hospital and Patience had left for class. Dean had suspected that Claire and Kaia were lovers at dinner the night before, which is only confirmed when they enter the room with clasped hands, Kaia leading.

"Hey again," Kaia says to Sam genially, smiling.

"Hey Kaia, Claire."

"So he is your brother, then?" Claire asks Dean. She doesn't think very highly of him, and he's not sure why, but he feels the same about her. Especially when she can't seem to handle a cordial word towards him, despite the fact he's never been anything but moderately friendly towards her. Dean nods. "Good." She doesn't elaborate, but he thinks she means that she's glad he found Sam, which is strangely nice of her. "Well, I have no idea where he's going to sleep."

"He's welcome to sleep with me, plenty of room," Dean really doesn't like the way Rowena's looking at his brother: like he's a nice steak and she's _starving_. At Dean's glare, Rowena amends, "There's a couch, Dean."

The raven on his shoulder trills something that almost sounds like a laugh and pecks at Dean's hair again. Dean rolls his shoulder to force the raven to fly off of it, glaring at it as he settles onto the back of the couch again, looking far too amused for a bird.

-*-*-

"How are you doing?" Castiel asks gently, as he and Dean lie in bed that night. Despite Dean's complaints Sam had ended up in the room with Rowena, and even the glare he'd sent her hadn't impacted the smug grin she'd had on her face. He's only just gotten his brother back, and if she goes and fucks it up for him by, well, fucking him, he might actually kill her.

"Okay. Weird. It's been weird," Dean replies, turning his head so he can look at Castiel, sliding his arm under his head. "Everything's just very… weird."

"I know," Castiel says, turning onto his side and smiling at Dean gently. He's had a shower tonight, and he smells like chemicals and lemons, and it makes Dean's nose twitch. His hair is fluffy and curling at the ends, still slightly wet, and Dean wants to reach over and thread his fingers through that hair - so he does. Castiel closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it. "Hm, that's nice."

"How are _you_ doing? You're gonna get your memories back tomorrow," Dean notes, scratching at Castiel's scalp until the other man groans gently. "Maybe you'll find out you have a family out there, a wife and a bunch of kids, a husband? Maybe both?"

Castiel snorts, mouth turning up into a smile. Dean uses his hold in Castiel's hair to pull the other man forward, planting his mouth over Castiel's. Dean kisses him gently, his hand in Castiel's hair slowing until he's stroking rather than tugging, turning onto his side so they're facing each other. Castiel lets out a frustrated noise when Dean doesn't press forward any further and deepens the kiss himself, pulling Dean on top of him.

Dean pulls himself away from Castiel, up onto his elbow, and presses his forehead to the other man’s. "Cas, we really shouldn't do this here again. Patience gave me a _look_ this morning." Castiel copies the horrified look Patience had given Dean and the couch that morning and Dean bursts into helpless laughter, muffling it in Castiel's shoulder. "Exactly like that."

"If I promise to suck you off this time will you change your mind?"

Dean snickers. "No." When Dean leans up to look at him, Castiel is pouting. "Hey, don't look at me like that."

Castiel gets his hands in Dean's hair and pulls him down into a rough kiss, licking his way into Dean's mouth. Dean seriously thinks about changing his mind, but they're interrupted by a flash of light. When they look up, there are two men standing beside the pullout couch. One looks unimpressed and the other looks amused.

Dean growls at them, baring his teeth and readying himself to attack before the amused one holds his hands up in defence. "We just came to see Rowena."

Dean pulls the quilt off of his body and climbs out of the bed, taking a second to sniff the air. The two men smell like unfamiliar power, and it takes a second for Dean's brain to finally click. When he does, he says, "Fucking hell, you're them."

"Where is the witch?" the unimpressed man asks. Dean decides he must be Michael, he looks like he has a stick up his ass.

"Gods, I'll get her, keep your pants on." He doesn't make it even two steps before Rowena is flying down the steps, pulling a dressing gown tight around her shoulders, Sam on her heels. 

"What's happening?"

"We've had angels keeping watch at the airport, hunters have arrived with heavy artillery, you need to leave," Michael tells them flatly, pursing his lips. It suddenly occurs to Dean that Rowena had told him angels were fathomless beams of light, and that these two are probably inhabiting some poor suckers’ bodies. "Lady Bevell is with them."

"Ah, fuck," Dean mutters. He's never met Toni Bevell before, but he's heard stories. He's pretty sure she's completely insane, and they can't really deal with that right now, they don't have enough manpower behind them.

"Take the humans with you, they will be killed for harbouring fugitives."

Castiel climbs to his feet and stands next to Dean, whispering, "Who's Lady Bevell?"

"Think Nurse Ratched, but entirely more insane," Rowena answers, pursing her lips. "Go wake the others."

Castiel and Dean climb the stairs together, knocking on all the bedroom doors in the hallway, and telling the women to pack the essentials quickly and get downstairs. Alex doesn't answer, and when Dean peeks inside her room, he finds her gone. His heart thunders in his chest, terrified she's the one who's called the hunters.

"She's at the hospital, we'll have to pick her up on the way through," Jody tells him, squeezing his shoulder like she can tell he's worried.

"I'll see if Rowena can make me a portal." Jody nods and heads back into her and Donna's bedroom before Dean takes the stairs down again, leaving Castiel to help them. "We need to get Alex from the hospital, can you portal me in?"

"I'll keep it open for ten minutes, be quick," Rowena waves her hand and a portal appears in the middle of the room. Dean pulls his shoes on in a hurry before stepping through it and into a janitor's closet.

When he opens the door, careful not to be seen, he finds himself in the emergency room of the hospital, with the nurses’ desk to his left. Alex isn't there, probably in a room, so Dean gets the attention of the first staff member he finds and says, "I'm looking for Alex Jones? I'm her cousin, there's been an emergency and she needs to come home."

The man eyes him suspiciously but nods, stepping behind the counter and leaning over a microphone to call Alex to the desk. Alex comes out of a patient room a few doors down, slinging a stethoscope around her neck and frowning, until she sees Dean and the look on her face turns to worry and fear. 

"Dean? What's going on?"

Dean tilts his head towards the male nurse and pulls Alex off to the side with a hand on her elbow. He whispers, "Hunters are on their way, we need to leave. We only have a few minutes before the portal closes." Alex nods and pulls away from Dean, heading for a door across the hallway and slipping inside. When she comes out she's got a jacket over her scrubs and a handbag over her shoulder. She leans over the counter and whispers something to the man, who nods, waving her off.

They make it back through the portal in time, into the lounge room where the others are waiting. Just as the first portal disappears a second one materialises in the same spot and they're pushed into it.

"Why Uzbekistan?" Dean asks once they've settled into the villa they found themselves in after stepping through the second portal. Dean's not entirely sure how they have somewhere to stay, and he was completely ready for a cave again, so the mosaic tiled walls and the huge indoor swimming pool is a bit of a surprise. But less of a surprise then learning what country they were in. He couldn't even say where Uzbekistan is for sure.

"It's one of twenty-two countries that was never invaded by the British, so the Men of Letters doesn't have a foothold," Rowena replies, falling into a chaise lounge gracefully, almost like a woman in an old Hollywood movie. She looks exhausted, and Dean feels similarly, especially since they haven't actually slept yet and it’s now mid-morning. He blinks over at the raven settled on the windowsill, beak nuzzled under its wing. Dean feels terrible for Castiel, he's been human far less often than he's been a raven over the last week, and Dean wishes for the millionth time they knew how to break the spell. "Bright side is we can do the spell tonight once the sun sets. I left quite a collection of ingredients in the atrium."

The raven's head perks up, and it stares at Rowena, trilling at her.

Almost as if Rowena can understand Castiel, she says, "Yes, just let me nap first, I'm going to need a lot of energy." 

"Maybe you should go up to bed, Rowena," Dean tells her gently as her eyelashes flutter closed a few times before opening again. When she nods Dean gives her a hand up and watches ascend the stairs before undressing and shifting into his wolf form, curling up on the carpet. The raven settles in next to him.

-*-*-

Dean makes a disgusted face at the bowl Rowena's using to mix her ingredients - chicken feet, the liver of a lamb, aconite, oleander leaves, the eyes of a Wagner's Viper and best of all, ground pig bones. He almost vomits when he realises Patience has to drink it.

Patience doesn't look particularly happy about it either, but once the potion's done she accepts it and swallows it down, gagging behind her fist. "Once I'm done you have to give me that bucket and get out of the way, or you'll end up covered in vomit."

Castiel sits himself in a high-backed chair in front of her, eyeing Patience nervously as Dean steps up behind him and puts a hand over his shoulder. It's for comfort, for both of them, but also so he can pull Castiel away once she's done and before she brings the potion back up.

"You can't touch him, Dean. Hold onto the back of the chair, but make sure you aren't touching him anywhere."

Dean does as he's told and watches as Patience falls into the chair in front of Castiel's before stretching her hands out towards him. They settle on the sides of his face, the heels of her hands covering his eyes, and her eyes slip shut. Dean can smell the shift in magic, the power she's using to reach inside Castiel's head and find his memories, and it makes him a little dizzy. 

Patience's eyes move behind her eyelids rapidly, and her heart rate has picked up. Castiel's started convulsing underneath her hands, and Dean wants desperately to hold him still, or pull him away, but he reminds himself Patience wouldn't have told him not to touch Castiel without a good reason.

"Stop her!"

"What, why?" He doesn't get to learn why, because Patience is being flung across the room by an invisible force, back thumping into the wall. When she lands at the base of the wall she leans over and vomits into the carpet.

Dean circles the chair and finds Castiel unconscious, head lolled to the side. He doesn’t look injured, and his heart's still beating regularly, but it does nothing to settle the fear and worry in the pit of Dean's stomach. "Cas? Cas, wake up. C'mon, Cas." He doesn't respond, so Dean looks over his shoulder at Patience and the women surrounding her. "What the _fuck_ happened? Why did you want me to stop her?"

"No one's ever started convulsing before," Donna says while Alex checks Patience over. "She's also never gotten thrown across the room before."

"Why didn't you stop me sooner?" Dean turns back to Castiel and takes the other man's face in his hands, willing him to wake up. He slaps Castiel's cheek a few times, hoping the sting will shock him awake... but it doesn't, and he starts to worry. "C'mon Cas, c'mon, wake up."

Dean hears Castiel's heart rate pick up and his breathing quicken before his eyes finally open, endlessly deep pools of blue staring back at him. "What happened?"

Before Dean answers he tils Castiel's head up and leans in for a gentle kiss, hoping it expresses how he feels and he won't have to actually say it. When he pulls back, the look Castiel gives him tells Dean that it had. 

"Something went wrong, you started convulsing and Patience got flung across the room. Do you remember anything?"

Castiel's mouth turns up into a frown as he thinks. "Well, yes, a few things - fuck." Castiel grimaces. "Fucking Crowley."

"What? I mean, that's a pretty normal reaction to Crowley, but what has he done?"

"I was supposed to be at Jody and Donna's _three months ago_. He sent me the wrong damned way!" Castiel climbs to his feet, face lit up with fury, but stops suddenly, face going green at the edges. He falls back into the seat and holds his head. "Ow, that hurt."

"Cas," Dean says gently, falling to his knees in front of Castiel so the man doesn't have to lift his head again. "What happened?"

Castiel rests his elbows on his knees and wipes roughly at his face, digging his knuckles into his temples before he says, "He was supposed to send me to Rowena so I could tell her - fuck I can't remember. I got bits and pieces back, not the whole story. I still don't remember most of my life, I don't remember my family. I don't remember why Crowley put the block up, or why he made it so strong." Castiel groans around another grimace. "I do remember how to break the curse. Patience was supposed to bring back the memory of the trigger and I was supposed to go to Rowena to break it. Rather roundabout way to get there, but here we are." Castiel lifts his head and looks over at Rowena. " _The Book of the Damned_ can break the curse and get - get me something I need back? I don't know, I can't remember."

"I don't have it."

Castiel frowns, standing up carefully and using Dean's shoulder to balance himself. "You were supposed to get it. Shit, what did Crowley tell me?" He wipes his hands over his face, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. "What was it? _Inferna - Infernus canis evocante_."

Outside the house a howl erupts through the night, something deep and lingering. Dean would have almost thought it was a werewolf, or even a normal wolf, if it weren’t for the magic that crackled through the air and the strong stench of _Hell_. Dean's never had the displeasure of encountering a hellhound before, but he's heard of them. Any that weren't wiped out when the demons were only pop up when they've killed someone. The beast pushes its way through the locked door and stops at the carpet, panting. Dean can't see it, and he doesn't think the others can either, but he can see the collar around its neck and the book tucked into it.

"Someone _owns_ a hellhound?" Jody asks from the other side of the room, eyes wide as she stares at the empty space the hellhound resides in. 

Castiel pushes away from Dean and stumbles towards the disembodied collar before Dean can stop him. The beast growls, but doesn't pounce, and Castiel manages to take the book out from the collar before flying backwards into Dean, who catches him around the middle to steady him. 

"What is it?" Dean whispers. He doesn't realise how close his mouth is to Castiel's throat until Castiel shivers at the proximity, and Dean's lips feather against the skin there. Castiel flips the book over so it's facing up. It's bound with leather and has a weird symbol on the front, and when Dean sniffs, it smells of blood and human flesh. He makes a face. "Who would make a book out of skin and blood?"

When Rowena takes the book from Castiel, Dean gently pulls away from him, suddenly remembering they're in a room full of people, including his brother. "It's _The Book of the Damned_. Patience had to bring your memories of the trigger back before you could remember the phrase that would call Juliet to you. He must have made it so that Juliet brought it to you when you uttered the phrase you could only remember once Patience had brought your memories of the trigger back. Of course my son had to make things incredibly hard for everyone."

"Juliet?" Claire asks from where she's still kneeling next to Patience. "That thing has a name?"

Rowena rolls her eyes. "It's his pet. He found it, still just a pup, when he was eleven, after all the demons had been killed. Begged me to let him keep it." Rowena summons a piece of raw meat from the air and throws it towards the invisible beast, who apparently catches it. It disappears as the hellhound eats it, and once it's done, the collar floats out of the room. "I don't see why Fergus would go through all this hassle, unless…" the others in the room stare at Castiel for a moment. When he starts to look extremely uncomfortable and nervous, Dean takes his hand and squeezes it. "Castiel knows something important."

"Well I don't right now! Stop looking at me like that!" Castiel cries, stomping out of the room and tugging Dean along with him when he doesn't let him go. He storms up to the room he and Dean share, and once they're both inside, slams the door closed. The anger on his face suddenly morphs into a look of frustration, confusion and fear, and he finally lets go of Dean's hand so he can sit on the bed. "I don't understand what's going on, Dean."

Dean stands in front of the other man and kisses his hair before holding him against his body, head resting on his belly. "Haven't got a clue, either, but we'll figure it out. At least Rowena will be able to break the spell soon." Castiel's arms come up around Dean's hips and he holds him tightly, snuffling into Dean's belly. It's rather endearing and Dean chuckles softly. "Maybe you're a prince or something. Like the movies you told me about."

Castiel snorts. " Sure, Prince Castiel of the Shapeshifters."

"It does have a nice ring to it."

Castiel huffs and pinches Dean in retaliation, which only provokes Dean into a wrestling match (which he definitely doesn't let Castiel win on purpose just so he can kiss him).

-*-*-

Rowena disappears for a week to collect ingredients, leaving Dean, Castiel and the others alone in the house with nothing to do. The first night, after Castiel shifts back into his human form and they have dinner, they work their way through a few bottles of liquor from the liquor cabinet and play at least a few dozen rounds of card games with the deck they found in a drawer.

(Dean wins most of the Poker and Blackjack games, and Jody wins most of the others. He's still not entirely sure how).

Sam calls it quits early, followed by Jody and Donna, then Alex, and then the others until it's just Patience, Castiel and Dean left, polishing off the last bottle of whiskey. Patience has been suspiciously quiet, and once they're alone, Dean takes the chance to ask her why.

"I'm fine, still reeling a bit from last night," she tells them, her words a little slurred, raising her glass in something like a salute, liquid sloshing over the side and over her fingers. "Lotta strange things in your head, Cas."

Cas frowns, eyebrows knitting together and mouth turning down almost comically. "Strange?"

"Your brain - I dunno… works differently?" Patience says and Dean would chalk the hesitation up to the amount of alcohol she'd consumed if it weren't for the way she kept looking at Castiel throughout the day, like she was trying to work him out. "Most people think in images or words or feelings, I couldn't even describe the way your brain works. Just... differently. Not bad or anything. There was this bright white light and I saw a couple of images: black feathers, symbols. And this sound, like... feedback?"

"What do you mean?" Dean leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. "Feedback? Like from a speaker?"

"Sort of…?" Patience sips at her drink then frowns thoughtfully. "Like when your ears ring? And there was this smoke, like a cloud of blueish smoke."

Castiel's face turns thoughtful. "I don't remember any of that."

Patience smiles gently. "You should soon. Whatever's going on, you're important, and you know things. So we're not gonna leave you without your memories." She finishes her drink then climbs to her feet, wobbling a little as she stands. She bids them a goodnight before stumbling up the stairs.

"You doing alright? Freaking out?" Dean asks Castiel, turning to face him and settling into the corner of the couch. Castiel's only answer is an easy shrug, but despite the little time they've really spent together, Dean knows him well enough to know he's worried, even without having to smell him. "You can say no, keep your memories locked away."

Castiel tilts his head and gives Dean a condescending look, forehead pinched. "Sure, and be responsible for anyone that gets killed because I have information in my head and I didn't let Patience scoop it out of my brain with a spoon. No, I have to. Besides, I'd really rather not stay cursed forever." He stares into his glass and sets it on the table before his hand shoots out and grabs at Dean's collar. He pulls Dean forward into him and their lips meet in a messy kiss, teeth clacking and biting. 

They eventually manage to smooth it out, slowing the kiss until Castiel is laying in Dean's lap, still holding onto his shirt and licking into his mouth to soothe the ache from his teeth. Dean slides his hands down Castiel's back, resting them at the base of his spine, fingers slipping just underneath his waistband and digging into the soft flesh. 

They kiss on the couch for a bit, unhurriedly, just because they're alone and just because they can. When Castiel's teeth accidentally scrape against a small blooming mark on Dean's lower lip, Dean groans and bucks his hips up and feels the hard shape of Castiel's cock. Needing to feel more, Dean digs his hands harder into Castiel's hips and pulls them closer, grinding into him and kissing him harder. He's honestly surprised either of them have managed to grow hard considering how much they've had to drink.

"Not on the couch this time," Dean says, nudging him away once Castiel starts tugging at the hem of Dean's shirt. "I don't think Patience will forgive us a second time."

Castiel snorts, but he climbs off anyway, helping Dean to his feet. He tugs Dean towards the stairs and they stumble up them, heading for the room at the end of the hallway they chose when they arrived. It's the smallest of the villa's seven bedrooms because they'd been the last to pick, but it's still just as beautiful as the rest of the building. Dean’s spent the majority of his life living in the woods, and he feels extremely out of place in somewhere so fancy.

The bed is still unmade, since neither Dean nor Castiel has bothered to make it when they left it that morning, sheets rumpled and pillows everywhere, the clothes they wore to bed flung all over the place. Neither of them are really the neat kind, but he supposes they can be forgiven for that. 

Dean fists the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head then hauls Castiel towards himself with a handful of cloth and starts, popping the buttons open one by one. Castiel's skin glows warmly in the lamp light and Dean traces the shadows streaked over his body. Dean leans forward and presses a kiss over Castiel's collarbone, pulling him closer so their bodies are laying flush. 

Their kisses become considerably more hurried once their clothes come off, and Dean can feel the way Castiel's heart is racing under his tongue. He's not sure what he wants to do with Castiel, but he does know that if he doesn't do it soon he might go insane. Castiel beats him to it, dragging him over to the bed, pushing the comforter to the side before they can climb onto the mattress. Castiel goes first, landing in the nest of pillows with a soft thump before Dean follows him, taking Castiel's face in the hand he isn't using to hold himself up and kissing him. 

As they kiss, their hips move together, and Dean doesn't get a chance to take it any further than grinding before Castiel flings his head back and groans Dean's name quietly when he comes. Dean chuckles, but he's not mad or disappointed, just amused (and perhaps inordinately proud.) He lifts himself up on his knees and gets his hand around his cock, squeezing the head in his fist before jerking it roughly. Castiel helps him along by reaching his hand down and encircling Dean's. He’s squeezing harder than Dean would have, and digging the tip of his thumb into his slit.

Dean comes with a shout muffled into Castiel's shoulder - one that morphs into a disgusted groan when Castiel wipes the come from his hand on Dean's thigh.

"Gross."

Castiel - the bastard - does nothing but laugh.

-*-*-

No one has to drink the spell this time, thank the gods, but it does have to be set on fire, so they do it outside. It's somehow more disgusting than the last time, with scorpion tails, a fresh chicken heart (which Rowena had to extract from a live chicken without magic before they started the spell) and poisonous hemlock flowers.

They start it during the day so they'll be able to tell if it works - if Castiel shifts back into his human form.

The smoke that is released when Rowena sets the spell on fire is a vibrant red, and it surrounds Castiel until they can't see him anymore. The cloud grows bigger and bigger until finally, when it clears, Castiel is left standing there, completely naked. When he realises this, his hands fly to his groin to cover himself. Dean brought a blanket to cover Castiel, and he flings it over his shoulders, tightening it around the front of his body.

"Well, it worked," Dean says, smiling gently at Castiel, who's still too blown to do anything more than frown down at himself. He looks like he's not entirely sure this is happening, and if he were to blink he'd find himself a raven again. "Do you remember anything?"

Castiel blinks up at Dean and nods once, slowly, then a few more times. "Yeah. I do," he looks around at the others and the skin over his cheekbones burn red. "I think I need to get dressed."

Dean nods and leads Castiel inside and up the stairs to their bedroom. He lets go of Castiel's wrist and sits on the bed, staring down at his hands while the other man pulls clothes on and suddenly feeling unsure about… everything. A little voice in his head wonders if Castiel's going to leave now that he's got his memories back.

"So, I'm definitely not married," Castiel says, smiling understandingly at Dean when Dean looks up. "And my family's definitely dead."

"I'm sorry, Cas."

Castiel falls onto the bed next to Dean, corner of his mouth tilting up. "It's okay, it was a long, long time ago." His hand slides over and settles on Dean's knee, squeezing, and Dean's heart thunders in his chest. "Dean, I am a shapeshifter, but I haven't always been."

"What do you mean?"

"I was something… else... before I was conceived. Out of some divine irony my parents named me Cassiel, but my name was originally Castiel. Cassiel is the angel that presides over the deaths of kings, and he's kind of a dick. And Castiel - well, _I_..."

Dean thinks he knows where Castiel's going with this, but he's not entirely sure he wants to hear it.

"Dean, I was an Angel of the Lord. I Fell forty years ago. If angels are in a human vessel when they Fall the vessel becomes their human form, but if they're in their original angelic form... It just so happened that the only pregnant woman in the immediate area was a shapeshifter, though I think it was fate playing a joke on me. I was the angel that assisted God in sending ravens to the prophet Elijah, when he was a fugitive in Jordan."

Dean scrubs his hands over his face, sighing. "I had sex with an angel. Twice."

Castiel snorts and says, "Of course that's what you take from this. Besides, I'm not an angel anymore, and I have no plans to change that anytime soon." He elbows Dean gently in the side and smiles at him.

"So, uh… do you remember… what you needed to remember? And do you know how to get the… your… thing, the one the Men of Letters have?" Dean scoffs at himself and shakes his head, rubbing one eye with a knuckle. "I have no idea what I'm saying."

Castiel leans an elbow on his knee and rests his chin in one cupped hand, the smile he sends Dean's way amused and fond. "I know the layout of the American Men of Letters Bunker, because I went there looking for my Grace. That’s what Bevell has. It's like a soul but more… angelic. And I don't want to put it back in my body - I like my human soul - but they shouldn’t have it. It's too powerful," Castiel's eyes flick to the doorway, and the people on the other side of it, before flicking back to Dean. "When we storm the castle, we have to retrieve it, it's our first priority."

"Why?"

Castiel sighs again and his nostrils flare. "An angel's grace is one of the three ingredients for a spell that casts the angels out of heaven and takes their wings. It's why they needed Crowley: to perform the spell. Crowley went willingly, yes, but he's a double agent, I guess. He feeds information back into the supernatural world. I was the link, but after I got caught… I don't know."

Dean waves his hand, suddenly overwhelmed. "I'll get back to that in a minute. What are the other ingredients to the spell?"

"A cupid's bow and the heart of a Nephilim," Castiel chews on his bottom lip, obviously nervous. "It's why Lucifer chose to involve himself. He fathered the only living Nephilim."

Dean climbs to his feet, pulling away from the hand on his thigh, and waves both hands in front of him in a stop motion. "Cas, I… this is fucking _insane_. Lucifer, the _devil_ , has a _kid_."

"Well, it's not born yet. What's no doubt worrying Michael is that because the Nephilim is the child of an archangel, and the grace comes from a Seraph, the spell may be strong enough to cast out the archangels, too," Castiel says, chewing at his bottom lip. He looks nervous, and it occurs to Dean that it's probably not just from the imminent war, but also Dean's reaction to Castiel's past. He's probably worrying that Dean is scared of him, or angry. Castiel has laid his entire life in front of Dean, and Dean has pulled away from his touch.

Dean sits next to him again and picks up Castiel's hand, taking it into both of his. "So we get your Grace back before the Nephilim is born."

-*-*-

Castiel relays everything he informed Dean of to the others, before announcing that they'll need to summon the archangels.

"How?" Jody asks, frowning. She's still reeling from the influx of information, sitting in one of the armchairs with her elbows on her knees.Donna perches on the arm next to her, gentle hand on her shoulder. "I've never heard of an archangel summoning spell."

Rowena's also frowning. "Neither have I."

"It's a closely-guarded secret in heaven. No living mortal knows how to summon an angel or an archangel-" Castiel snorts, shaking his head. "Well, besides me."

Claire climbs to her feet and says, "Sorry, just one thing. I'm still trying to wrap my head around you being an angel."

Dean tilts his head and looks at her. "Little more pressing matters to attend to, Claire."

"Right, that's it!' Claire says, rounding on Dean. "What's your problem?"

Dean leans back in the chair and crosses his arms. "I don't trust you. That first day I met you, you smelled like gunpowder and death. You smelled like _hunter_."

Claire scoffs and throws her hands in the air. "Weeks! You've known me for weeks, why didn't you just _fucking_ ask? If you had, I would have told you that I spend most of my time killing hunters. The Grand Coven pays me for every body I bring them."

"Those _bitches_ ," Rowena mutters under her breath, scoffing. Dean decides to ask her about it later, they don't have the time now.

"Fine, sorry for being an asshole, but can you blame me?"

Claire lets out a breath through her nose and falls back into her chair, crossing her own arms. "No." She looks a bit like a petulant child, and for the first time Dean realises she's still so young. He's never asked how old she is, but at a guess, she's barely out of her teens, twenty-two or twenty-three. She's so young, and she kills people for a living. 

When he looks over at Jody, he can tell this is a sensitive topic for the women, and that they've probably argued about it often. So he veers away from it, turning to Castiel to ask, "So, how do we summon the archangels?"

"Pretty simple summoning spell, some words in Enochian," Castiel replies, shrugging his shoulders and worrying at his bottom lip. "If everyone could keep my identity to themselves untilI choose to reveal it, I would appreciate it." A round of nods flow around the others in the room, including Dean, and once they've passed, Castiel nods himself. "Okay, then, here we go," He takes a breath and closes his eyes, whispering words in a language Dean has never heard and doesn't understand. " _Zod ee reh doh noh koh ah beh rah ma geh nah zod peh sah geh._ "

It's silent for a moment and Dean wonders if it hadn't actually worked, until thunder cracks somewhere in the distance and the two archangels appear in a flash of bright white light. Castiel looks surprised, like he wasn't entirely sure they would appear.

The first thing Castiel asks - before either of the archangels have spoken, their faces turned towards Rowena as if they thought she was the one that had summoned them - is "Where's Kelly?" 

Lucifer's face twists in a frown and he rounds on Castiel. "What the fuck do you think you know about Kelly?"

"I swear to the gods, Lucifer, we don't have time for your devil schtick," Castiel sounds like a snotty younger brother (which Dean supposes he is) and Dean coughs into his fist to cover a laugh. "Who's been protecting her?"

Lucifer frowns suspiciously at Castiel, but he doesn't argue anymore. Instead, he hesitantly admits, "Dagon."

"Of course that machinating bottom feeder lived through the purge," Michael hisses under his breath, scowling at Lucifer. 

Lucifer and Michael delve into an argument in another language, presumably Enochian, the same as Castiel had spoken when he summoned the two. They're bickering like normal brothers would, and it's even more amusing than Castiel as the snotty little brother. Two celestial beings sniping at each other like children is hilarious.

"Can we stop fighting like children and call Dagon, please." Castiel rolls his eyes when Lucifer turns to look at him, clearly unimpressed, and asks him _why_. "Strength in numbers, obviously. Being a powerful demon didn't stop the humans from killing Lilith, Ramiel, Azazeal or Asmodeus, did it?" Castiel plants himself on the couch next to Dean, looking far too smug, then says, "I'd rather stop the apocalypse, if you don't mind."

Michael crosses his arms over his chest and taps his fingers on his bicep. His face is blank, and besides the tapping, he's doing a very good job at hiding his impatience and annoyance. "Well, since you seem to know so much, shapeshifter, why don't you tell us whose Grace the humans have found themselves in possession of?"

Castiel takes a deep, harsh breath in through his nose and, under his breath, says, "Castiel- they have Castiel's Grace."

Michael's face turns suspicious, and Dean doesn't think Castiel's going to get away so easily this time. "And how would you know that?"

Castiel snorts and wipes his hands over his face. "Why do you think?" Suddenly, his body jerks and he climbs to his feet, uncovering his face and the anger it holds. "You know what? No. I told you centuries ago this would happen, I told you we had to help them or risk our own lives in the future, so you know what? I was right, and I'm going to fucking _rub_ it in."

Michael says something harsh to Castiel in Enochian, and Castiel replies in kind, and then Lucifer is sniping at the both of them until Dean and the others are left staring at them, completely out of the loop.

Since Castiel is no longer the voice of reason, Dean stands up and whistles through his fingers, shocking them out of their argument. "Since none of you want to behave like adults, Rowena and I are in charge now. Lucifer is going to bring Dagon and Kelly here, Michael is going to ready the angels for an attack on the American Men of Letters to retrieve Castiel's Grace and Castiel, Rowena and I will come up with a plan." When none of the three react, Dean shouts, "Now!"

The two archangels disappear in another crack of thunder and bright light and Dean falls back into the couch.

-*-*-

"Fingers crossed they don't smite me for that when this is all over," Dean says to Castiel when they're finally alone in the bedroom that night, pulling his shirt over his head. "What were you guys fighting over in Enochian?"

Castiel sits on the bed and rolls his eyes, "I was getting a dressing down for falling. Lucifer was defending me, but then he was telling me off for loving humanity so much that I fell to earth, rather than coming to him." He leans down and pulls off his shoes and socks, then unbuttons his jeans. He doesn't take them off, yet, instead he says, "Same shit, different day."

"Will Michael make you take your Grace back?"

Castiel taps his fingers on his knee, chewing on his bottom lip. "Probably. He'll try. But I'd rather destroy it than go back." The look on his face when he stares up at Dean is so intense that Dean feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "I had a reason to leave before, and I have a reason to stay now."

Dean loses his jeans and shoes and leans over Castiel, taking Castiel's face in his hands and tilting it up. When Dean kisses him it's rough and desperate, licking into Castiel's mouth and tasting the whiskey he drank earlier on his tongue. It's an awkward angle, but Dean doesn't mind until his neck starts to ache, so he presses a hand to Castiel's shoulder and pushes him down into the mattress, climbing on top of him.

Castiel pulls away to pant into the air, and Dean mouths over his throat, grazing his teeth over the flesh beneath his ear. Castiel groans and threads his fingers in Dean's hair, holding him closer until Dean's nose is pressed into his neck. "Dean?" Dean hums into Castiel's throat to let him know he's listening, even as he's sucking a purple mark into Castiel's skin. "I want you to fuck me."

Dean's breath catches in his throat, and he leans up on his elbows so he can look down at Castiel. He's flushed from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, an attractive warm pink colour that Dean wants to get his mouth on, and he's worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. "Yeah. Yeah."

Castiel's nervousness turns into a bright smile that makes Dean's chest ache, and Dean leans down to kiss him again, tasting the happiness on his tongue. Dean pulls away and knees down Castiel's body until he's planting his feet on the floor, and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Castiel's jeans, tugging them down and off his legs. He's already hard, cock tenting the grey fabric of the briefs he's wearing, and Dean leans down to nudge his face into the shape of it, breathing the smell of him in. He smells like arousal and autumn, and Dean feels dizzy with it. 

" _Dean_ ," Castiel whispers, reaching down to thread his fingers in Dean's hair again, pulling until Dean's scalp aches and he goes, letting Castiel pull him up his body. They kiss again, Castiel leading this time, and Dean moans into it. 

"I don't have any lube or anything, Cas." Dean tells him, leaning over him with his elbows in the mattress on either side of Castiel's face.

Castiel's cheeks flush darker and he slides out from under Dean, leaning over the bed to open the bottom drawer of the bedside table and coming back with a bottle of lube. "I found it in the bathroom, but I don't even want to think about that right now."

Dean snickers and takes the lube from him, maneuvering them both so they're in the middle of the bed before settling himself between Castiel's thighs. He tugs the briefs down Castiel's hips and off of his legs, leaning back so Castiel's foot doesn't catch him in the face, before throwing them over his shoulder. Dean never really had a chance to get a good look at Castiel before, so in the light he lets himself, eyes tracing from his face, down his flushed chest, over the bulge of his biceps and the bumps of his ribs. The vee of his hips taper down into a nest of curls as dark as Castiel's hair at his groin, his cock nestled over them. It's hard and flushed a dark red, and Dean leans down to press his mouth to the protruding vein that trails to the head. He gets distracted licking at Castiel's warm flesh, taking the head into his mouth and sucking until it hollows his cheeks. Castiel howls, and Dean's hand flies up to cover his mouth, fingers digging into his cheek.

"Shh," Dean hushes, mouthing at Castiel one last time before he moves further down between Castiel's legs, taking his hand off of Castiel's face and pressing it into the other man's thigh, pushing his leg up so he has to plant his foot on Dean's shoulder.

"Gods, fuck," Castiel groans when Dean brushes his nose in the crook between Castiel's thigh and groin. He wants to take his time, make Castiel desperate, but Castiel’salready impatient, and he tugs at Dean's hair as a warning.

Dean chuckles, "Calm down, I'll get there." When he looks up at Castiel, he's scowling, but it's not that impressive when coupled with the red flush and his kiss-swollen lips. Dean decides to give him a break, then, and finds the bottle of lube, smearing his fingers with the slick. Before he gets his fingers on Castiel's skin he spreads Castiel's legs further open.

Dean traces one of his slick fingers over the furl of Castiel's hole before sliding it inside to the last knuckle, grinning when Castiel whimpers. Castiel's body is tight and hot around Dean's finger, and Dean decides then that he's definitely going to need extra prep, or Dean's not going to be able to get his dick in him, and even if he does, he's going to come way too fast. 

He slides his first finger out and fits it back in with a second one, going slowly, carefully, so he doesn't hurt Castiel. His body tenses when Dean's fingers slide all the way inside, and Dean stays still, stroking his thigh soothingly. It takes a while, but Castiel finally does relax, the clutch of his hole no longer so death grip-tight, and Dean curls his fingers up, searching for his prostate. When he finds it, he strokes the tips of his fingers over it until Castiel whimpers, back arching.

Dean stretches him with four fingers, one at a time, before finally deciding he's sure he can't hurt Castiel and removing them with a slick sound that goes right to the pit of Dean's gut. Castiel looks fucked out, eyes half lidded and glassy, mouth slightly open, and Dean hasn't even gotten his cock in him. He wonders what Castiel will look like when he has. "You okay, Cas?"

Castiel blinks slowly and nods his head, almost sleepily, a smile growing on his mouth, "C'mon."

Dean wiggles out of his briefs and climbs up Castiel's body, pressing kisses into his skin as he goes. Just as Dean is kissing Castiel and taking his cock in his hand to steady it, they hear drunken yelling from down the hallway. It's a male voice, so it has to be Sam, and it's not scared or angry so Dean doesn't worry. He just laughs. 

"At least we know he's probably too drunk to be able to smell what we're doing," he tells Castiel, kneeing his thighs out of the way before stopping and grabbing a pillow from near Castiel's head to put under his hips. "That's better."

Castiel wiggles until he's comfortable then nods at Dean, winding his arms around Dean's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. It doesn't last long before Dean's pulling away, deciding he needs to concentrate while he slides his cock into Castiel, and his mouth is not conducive to Dean's concentration or control. 

Dean's got his dick in his hand, slick with lube, and he’s pressed the head of it to Castiel when the other man says, "Wait, hang on, I've changed my mind." Dean pulls back fast like he's been burnt and Castiel sits up and says, "No, not like that, lie down."

Dean gives Castiel a toothy grin and does as he's told, shoving the pillow away as he lies down where Castiel had been, sliding his arms under his head.

"Don't look so smug," Castiel tells him, straddling Dean's hips and reaching back to take Dean's cock in his hand. He screws up his face in concentration as he slides down onto Dean and groans deep in his throat.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean sighs, unable to take his eyes off of Castiel, sliding his hands up Castiel's thighs to settle onto his hips. 

Castiel starts slow, rocking his hips back and forth and grinding them down into Dean's, head hanging low, chin pressed to his chest. The flush is still there, red on his cheeks and his chest, and his skin is so warm under Dean's fingertips. Castiel's body squeezes Dean like a vice and he presses his hands into Dean's shoulders to get leverage to start to properly fuck himself on Dean's cock. 

Dean holds on as Castiel rides him, thrusting his hips up every now and then when Castiel grinds down, striking his prostate. Castiel’s getting desperate, whimpering loudly and digging his nails into Dean's shoulder. The muscles in his thigh jump under Dean's biceps, and his thrusts are slowing like he's getting tired and his thighs are aching. Dean pulls him down on top of him, kissing him and fucking up into the clutch of his body. 

"Dean, fuck," Castiel groans, threading his fingers in Dean's hair and tugging until it stings, trying to meet his thrusts. He's getting close, Dean can smell it on him, so he wiggles a hand in between the both of them and gets it around Castiel's cock to jerk him off as he thrusts up into him. 

"C'mon, Cas, want you to come for me," Dean grunts into Castiel's mouth, belly so warm and tense. He's close, too, he doesn't think it'll take him long, but he wants Castiel to come first, so he doubles down on his thrusts and then tightens the grip he has on Castiel's cock. "C'mon, baby."

Castiel moans at the pet name and tugs at Dean's hair again, a sharp ache in his scalp that shoots like lightning through Dean's veins and directly to his cock. He comes first, despite how much he wanted Castiel to, spilling into Castiel's body with a grunt of Castiel's name.

Well, he didn't realise he liked his hair being pulled _that_ much.

He fights through the oversensitivity that's making his muscles shake, fucking up into Castiel a few more times, stroking his cock until he comes too. 

" _Dean_ ," Castiel groans, spurting between them and over Dean's hand. He collapses onto Dean, trembling and mouthing at Dean's skin gently.

They're sweaty and sticky with come, and Dean would really love to bask in the afterglow, but it's getting disgusting, so he gently moves Castiel to the side and pulls out of him.

"Where're you going?" Castiel whispers, turning onto his back to look up at Dean as he finds the towel he used for his shower that morning, hung up on the back of the door. His eyes are half-lidded and he's still panting.

"I'm coming back, hold on," Dean tells him, wiping his hand and cock clean before climbing back onto the bed to do the same for Castiel. Once they're both as clean as they're going to get without a shower he throws the towel away and pulls Castiel into his arms, throwing the quilt over them. "There we go."

-*-*-

Lucifer arrives the next morning with Dagon and a heavily pregnant Kelly. This would normally be a huge deal, if it wasn't for the fact that no sooner had they arrived then a very human Sam was climbing down the stairs.

"I'll get to you in a moment," Dean tells Lucifer, blinking at Sam like he'll suddenly be a wolf again in the next blink of his eyes. "What the fuck."

Sam smiles at him sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. "Would you let it go if I told you I just woke up like this?"

"Uh, no. Obviously not." Dean looks back at Castiel for help, flapping a hand at him. Castiel raises an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "What the fuck, Sam."

Sam doesn't need to say anything. Rowena comes down the stairs, beautifully dressed as always, but with a large purple bruise on her throat that Dean knows she could have hidden but either had forgotten to, or didn't want to. Going by the smug expression on her face, it's definitely the latter.

"I…" Dean shakes his head, eyebrows flying into his hairline. "I don't want to know. I'm glad the curse is broken, but I don't ever want to know how." He scrubs his hands over his face and sighs, turning back to the newcomers. He ignores the archangel and the demon and greets Kelly first. "Hi, sweetheart."

She's short and thin but for the huge protruding belly, and her hair is a long pale brown, her eyes an icy blue. She smells like power, but it's not hers - it's coming from the growing being inside of her and is encircling her like a blanket. She accepts Dean's help onto the couch, turning towards him as he sits too. She smells like apprehension and anxiety, but she still smiles at him, bright like the sun. Dean wonders how Lucifer ever got anywhere near someone like her, but he keeps that to himself.

"I'm Dean, I'm going to keep you and your child safe." He turns to look at Sam, Castiel and Rowena and introduces them, too. Once he's done, he turns to Lucifer and Dagon and says, "The demon can stay, but if she tries anything, puts any of my people in danger, I will kill her."

Lucifer shoots him a look, almost bored, and replies, "Fine."

Dean turns back to Kelly and carefully takes her hands in his, glad when she doesn't pull away. "The birth smells close, days, maybe weeks. How do you feel?"

Kelly shrugs, still smiling. "Okay, aches and pains."

"I'll bet," Dean replies. The baby's power feels stronger when he touches her, like it's reaching out to Dean to investigate him, to learn if he's safe. "Have you chosen a name?"

"Jack, after my father."

Dean's about to ask her if she'd like anything to eat or drink, but he gets interrupted by a strong burst of power. His vision whites out, replaced by images Dean doesn't recognise: wastelands and people with eyes that shine like stars, armies of hunters facing off against supernatural beings. He watches himself from outside of his body, shifting into his wolf and pouncing on a woman who tauntingly shakes a vial of shining blue liquid that shifts like smoke at him.. He comes back to himself when his jaws sink into the woman's neck, the image morphing back into Kelly, her eyes fading from a shining gold back to their normal blue.

"Was that him?" Kelly nods. "Will he show it to Castiel and Rowena?"

Kelly worries at her bottom lip with her teeth. "Maybe? We could give it a try."

Dean beckons the two forward and swaps with Rowena while Castiel takes a seat on the coffee table. They each take one of Kelly's hands and Dean watches, and waits. For a moment, he's not sure anything's going to happen, but then suddenly Kelly’s and Castiel's eyes are shining gold like Kelly's had when Dean had been pulled from the vision. Rowena's eyes haven't changed, and she's watching them like Dean is, no longer holding Kelly's hand. He doesn't know why the baby let Castiel see what Dean had, and not Rowena, but he really hasn't got the time to think about it right now.

"Oh, wow," Castiel says once the gold shine in his eyes has passed, gently settling Kelly's hand in her lap. "That was… an experience. Was that the future?"

"One of them," Lucifer says, staring at his hands as he picks at his nails, bored. "The future changes with every choice you make. The psychic will understand," he looks over his shoulder at Patience, who's standing between Alex and Claire. Despite being confronted with the devil and a demon, she's not afraid, none of them are, and Dean has to give them props for that. 

"My visions are the inevitable future. When I see something come to pass, it doesn't change."

The demon's smile is sharp and almost horrifying, like Dean is looking past a veil at the creature that lies beneath the human skin. "Maybe _you_ can't change it."

Dean shoots a look at the demon and the Devil and says, "I'd like to change my earlier statement. If she annoys me, I'll kill her." Dagon hisses at him like a snake and in any other instance he'd growl at her, but he's trying to lead them, not squabble with them. He doesn't really like this gig he's thrown himself into - he'd really rather be the muscle, he's good at that. Especially when every harsh (but necessary) word puts Dean in range of smiting. "Kelly, would you like something to eat?" At her nod, Dean reaches his hand towards her and helps her to her feet when she takes it. He locks eyes with Castiel and then Rowena, jerking his head towards the kitchen. "Sam?"

Sam nods, hopefully taking it as Dean's request to watch Lucifer and Dagon around the others. When he doesn't move to follow them, Dean knows he has.

Kelly settles into one of the bar stools while Dean goes to the fridge peering inside. "We've got left over pasta, or some chicken - could make you a sandwich?" After Kelly decides on the pasta, Dean goes about heating it up for her.

-*-*-

-*-*-

Dean only takes a gun after a lot of arm-twisting from Jody and Donna, despite telling them when he shifts he'll lose it. He's not that great a shot, he's not been around guns all that much, but he supposes if he gets close enough to the target, even _he_ couldn't miss. He braces his foot on the couch as Jody straps a holster to his thigh, before walking around the room a few times to get used to the extra weight.

It's eleven thirty in the morning in Uzbekistan, one thirty in the morning in Kansas, and they're mostly ready, though they haven't gotten the all-clear from the angels. They were supposed to send someone at eleven, and Dean doesn't know if they're making a point or if something's gone wrong. He hopes it's the former.

Castiel and Sam have both been given guns as well, though they seem far more comfortable with them then Dean does, holstering them themselves. They both get shoulder holsters and Dean whines about not getting his own until Donna explains that because he's less familiar with using a gun, it'll be easier for him to reach it quicker on his thigh than under his arm. 

Claire has strapped more weapons on herself then anyone, almost as many as all of them put together, and Dean's again reminded of her history. Dean notices Jody's nervous look aimed in her direction, and reaches over to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly.

Dean gets more and more nervous as the time goes on with no sign of an angel, until finally, ten minutes before they're supposed to leave, five minutes after they've sent Kaia, Patience and Alex to Rowena's townhouse in Minsk, a crack of white light shines through the room. When it clears, the man it reveals is short and svelte, with caramel-coloured hair and Grace-shining blue eyes. He smells strongly of power, as much power as Lucifer and Michael have. He's not a simple angel, he's another archangel. Dean knows very little about biblical canon, but he does know that there are four archangels: Michael, Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel. 

The glow of the archangel's eyes doesn't waver, and the smug look on his face proves that he's doing it on purpose - to prove his power, probably. 

"And _you_ are?" Dean asks the archangel when he doesn't introduce himself. Or speak, at all.

The radiance in his eyes clears, settling into a dark hazel, and he gives Dean a sharp grin. "They call me Gabriel." He blinks over at Sam, eyes raking over his body. "And who are you, handsome?" Dean pretends to vomit and rolls his eyes at Rowena, whose expression flips from annoyed to amused.

"Sam."

Dean rolls his eyes again. "If you could stop flirting with my brother and tell us if we're ready to go, thanks?"

Gabriel shoots Dean a look and sighs, then says, "Michael and Lucifer are waiting. As soon as the wards are down they'll join us."

Dean eyes the clock on the wall, then the others in the room. He smiles at Kelly, who smiles nervously back, then turns to Rowena and nods. "It's time. Be ready."

A rush of power goes through the room before a portal appears in front of him. He jerks his head at Gabriel, telling him to take it first - which he does - before he follows. The portal opens out into a forest, in front of the large roller door of a dilapidated metal building. The others follow behind them, appearing through the portal before it closes. Kelly looks shaken and Rowena is holding her up by the arm. They'll have to make this quick.

Michael and Lucifer appear next to Kelly, each taking one of her hands. Gold light shines from Kelly's belly, climbing up her skin like lightning and glowing in her eyes before reaching out to the archangels. After a few moments, symbols on the building that had originally been invisible start to glow in that same shining gold before burning red and melting down the walls like fresh paint.

Rowena makes another portal and pulls Kelly away from the archangels and into it before it, too, closes. Michael and Lucifer's vessels are still intact, thankfully, which means they won't have to take time out of their plan to get them into the other two. They seem weak, though, and Dean suspects that's why they brought Gabriel along. The third archangel opens the garage door quietly with a flick of his hand.

As Dean leads the group in through the garage he eyes the cameras. He'd expected them, had planned for a less than surprise entrance, so he's apprehensive when they aren't surrounded straight away. Besides the garage door, there are three other access points on the other side of the room, two on either end and one in the middle. He points the archangels towards the middle door, out into the map room, then Jody, Claire, Sam and Donna towards the left side door that leads into the offices and dungeon, and then leads Castiel in through the last door on the right, leading them into the hallway of bedrooms. 

Dean looks back at Castiel and nods when the shapeshifter holds up three fingers on his left hand. Third door on the right is Bevell's. When they reach the door Dean stops and listens, sniffs the air. Their hallway is empty, and nearly silent, the only sounds Dean can catchare distant raised voices and a few gunshots.

"I can feel it, Dean," Castiel whispers, pressing his hands to the door, fingers spread wide. "My Grace is inside."

"Against the wall," Dean tells Castiel, pressing his back against the wall on one side next to the doorway before Castiel does the same on the other side. Expecting traps, Dean carefully reaches over to the door knob and twists it open, pushing the door in. Nothing happens, no explosions or gunshots or traps, so Dean nods once at Castiel and heads into the room.

Still, nothing happens, so Dean nods at Castiel again, and Castiel strolls straight towards the desk on one side of the room, reaching out for the drawer.

Dean smells a gun. "Wait!" Dean hisses, pulling Castiel away before he can open the drawer up. He doesn't know if it's just sitting in there, or if it's set to go off when the drawer’s opened, and he doesn't want to take any chances. He steps to the side of the desk, pulling Castiel behind him before reaching out to open the drawer.

The gun does go off, a bullet shooting straight through the wood and plating and striking the wall on the other side of the room. Inside the drawer, next to the rigged up gun, is a small vial of shining blue liquid, and Dean suddenly remembers seeing it in Bevell's hands in the Nephilim's vision.

He sniffs the air, and there in the distance, behind the scent of old books, too-sharp perfume and clean laundry, is _human_ , and _hunter_. She's on her way. 

"Gun," Dean warns Castiel in a harsh whisper as he pops the button on the thigh holster, and pulls out the gun, holding it up in two hands, aimed at the door. 

Dean's never had the displeasure of meeting Lady Toni Bevell before, but he knows without a doubt that the woman with the tightly tied back blonde hair and the skirt suit, holding a gun, is most definitely her.

"The werewolf Dean Winchester and the fallen angel-turned-shapeshifter Cassiel, what an unexpected pleasure this is." 

"Toni Bevell, London Chapterhouse. Less of a pleasure," Dean replies, reaching over to slide the vial of Castiel's Grace into Castiel's jacket pocket, buttoning it closed. "The way I see it, you have two options here. One, you let us leave the room…"

"I don't think so."

Dean gives her a grin, sharp like needles and says, "I was hoping you'd say that. Now I get to eat your heart out of your chest."

Dean lets the wolf overtake him then. Bones and tendons shift under his skin, cracking with the force necessary to change their shape and knit back together. He lands on four paws, howling at the human in front of him, listening for the howl back from Sam that will tell him the others are still safe. Once he's heard it, he lunges at Bevell, bringing her to the floor with his paws pinning her down at her shoulders and her knees. He pants in her face, teeth bared, and enjoys the fear in her eyes a little more than is strictly necessary.

The fear is the only reason he doesn't expect the knife in his flank. It sinks into the hilt and sends shots of pain like lightning through his body. Still running on adrenaline, he manages to snap his jaws onto her arm and pull her away, teeth crunching through bone as Dean bites harder then he'd originally planned to, drawing blood. Bevell screams, then snarls, threading the fingers of her unbroken hand into Dean's fur and yanking until she's pulled a chunk of it out. He growls at her and bites her again, this time in the curve of her throat, not quite hard enough to make her bleed, but hard enough to make her go limp. She's still breathing, and her heart is still beating, but she's unconscious, and he thinks she'll stay that way for a while.

"Is she dead?" Castiel asks once Dean shifts back into his human form, spitting the blood from his mouth, looking at the splatter of it on the floor with a disgusted sneer.

"No," Dean replies, going about putting his clothes back on; jeans, shirt, then shoes, letting Castiel strap the holster over his thigh again. "Got the Grace?"

Castiel reaches into his pocket, nodding when his fingers grasp around the vial. He passes Dean on his way out through the door, jerking his head so Dean will follow him out into the hallway. They follow the shouting and gunshots through a doorway and into a large open area, walls covered in books, three tables set into the middle. Bodies litter the floor, and Dean's glad to find they're mostly hunters, with eyes burnt out. He guesses the angels don't have the same qualms about killing that Dean does. (Though he supposes if they've killed all the Men of Letters members in the bunker, no one will find Bevell in time to save her from bleeding out. He hopes no one does.) 

A couple of the bodies have wounds and lay on burnt shadows the shape of enormous wings. Angels. 

Someone calls Dean's name from the hallway that leads to storage and offices, and when he rushes into it, he finds human-Sam on the floor bleeding from a large jagged cut just below his ribcage. There's a lot of blood, and Dean's not sure he'll live long enough for werewolf healing to kick in.

"Gabriel!" Castiel shouts before Dean's even reached his brother. The archangel appears in the room in a crack of thunder. He's covered in blood, but none of it seems to be his, and his eyes shine as the silhouettes of his wings flare against the concrete walls. He's putting on a show, probably because he'd expected to be dropped in the middle of danger. "Heal him."

The shine in Gabriel's eyes eases and he drops to his knee beside Sam, resting two fingers on the werewolf's forehead. White light gleams in Sam's wound before the skin begins stitching itself back together.

"Take him to Rowena," Dean tells Gabriel who nods, ignoring Sam's protests. "Stay there with them, keep an eye on Dagon." Gabriel nods again before taking Sam's arm and disappearing.

Dean finally takes a second to look at the human bodies still littered around the room. Only one hasn't been torn up by teeth, and is instead riddled with gunshot wounds, and Dean guesses he was the one who got Sam. Dean thinks about kicking him for good measure, but he doesn't. Instead, he reaches into the pockets of one of the hunters, riffling around for a set of keys, moving onto the next when he doesn't find any with the first. 

There are at least fifteen keys on the chain and Dean has to try seven of them on the door into the dungeon until he gets it right. The walls are lined with tiny barred cells, at least twenty of them, and they're all full. The room smells of fear and various supernatural creatures, as well as one human, a red-headed girl right at the end, in the very last cage on the right. 

Dean begins systematically opening each cage, zigzagging between the two sides until everyone is free. The two archangels appear in the room as Dean is about to announce that he doesn't think Crowley is here (the only person he thinks he can identify as a witch is a girl the red-headed human is hanging off of, and even then, he's not entirely sure). 

"More are coming."

Dean sends Jody, Donna, Claire and the people they've rescued from the cells away with the angels.he two archangels stay with Dean and Castiel to take them away once they’ve find Crowley. 

"Can you smell him?" Castiel asks Dean in a whisper as they sneak through the halls. Dean shakes his head.

Lucifer and Michael stop in front of a door at the end of the hallway, staring at the wood, and Dean can feel the crackle of power behind it, like an itch down his spine. He's not entirely sure how the wards in this room managed to stay up when all the others in the bunker hadn't. The wards will keep the archangels out, but Dean's pretty sure they're not complex enough to keep Dean and Castiel out. At least he hopes.

He tries the keys on the door's lock, one by one, until finally one clicks in and turns. He pushes the door in carefully and peers inside. Behind the lines of stacks, shelves filled with old books and boxes, is a set of metal doors, flung wide open to reveal a room, empty but a chair with an unconscious man strapped to it.

Dean finds it hard reconciling the small, pathetic-looking dark-haired man in a witch’s trap and covered in blood with everything that Dean's heard of regarding Fergus "Crowley" MacLeod. Crowley's reputation had always been one of violence, irritability and biting sarcasm, an utter contradiction to the man held in the Men of Letters dungeon. 

Dean starts by disabling the trap, scuffing the toe of his shoe over the painted lines to scratch them out before trying the keys on the cuffs around Crowley's wrists and ankles. None of them fit, and they're too strong for Dean to pull apart. He turns to Castiel and says, "What the fuck do we do?"

Castiel looks at Crowley, and then behind him at the door where Lucifer and Michael are waiting. "We might have to carry the chair out and get one of them to break the restraints." Dean nods and they each take a side of the chair, carrying it and its occupant out into the hallway before setting it in front of the archangels. "Do your magic."

Michael makes a face at Castiel and says, "It's not magic." He releases Crowley from the chair and reaches towards him, disappearing with the witch's limp body in a flash of light. 

"Let's go," Lucifer says, holding his hands out to Dean and Castiel. 

Dean doesn't get a chance to take it, because just as he's reaching for Lucifer, a loud shot echoes through the hallway and pain spears through his thigh. Lucifer and Castiel disappear in another flash of light, and Dean is left alone in the hallway while Bevell stands at the other end, holding a gun in the hand that isn't injured. 

"Motherfucker."

Dean's started to get dizzy with all the blood loss and when his body wobbles he lets himself collapse to the floor, unable to hold himself up any longer. He watches Bevell stalk towards him, suddenly unable to move or protect himself.

Dean hears Castiel's voice whisper "Cover your eyes," from behind him, and tries to turn to look at him, but it makes his whole body scream in pain. He manages to get his face in the crook of his elbow. He hears a woman's scream and can just see the shining white light from around his arm.

Before he’s even uncovered his face, he feels the world shift around him, and then fingers are resting on his forehead. The pain in his body eases, and when he finally lowers his arm, he can see Castiel in front of him. He looks different, and he smells different, sharp around the edges, more powerful.

"Cas," Dean mumbles, reaching up to take Castiel's face in his palm. His skin tingles with power. "You took your Grace back."

"I had to," Castiel whispers, pressing his forehead to Dean, eyes fluttering closed. "I couldn't leave you, Dean."

**Author's Note:**

> A second part is on its way, so keep an eye out for it!
> 
> Do you like Destiel? Come join us in the [Profound Bond](https://discord.gg/profoundbond) Discord Server!


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